[Rosella – First Person POV ]
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We didn't plan it like a revolution.
Just a conversation in the open.
But in a place like St. Augustine's?
A conversation with Damien Carter — in broad daylight, in front of the cameras, in the main courtyard — was the same as declaring war.
And that's exactly what we wanted.
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The courtyard was full.
Which was perfect.
Because the Foundation thrives on silence.
So we broke it.
"Tell me again," I said loudly, like I was rehearsing for a debate, "how it's totally normal that a school has surveillance files on students."
Damien leaned against the stone pillar, voice lazy but clear.
"Of course it's normal," he said. "Didn't you read the fine print? When you enrolled, you agreed to give up your privacy."
People turned to listen. Ears perked. Phones tilted slightly.
I smiled.
"Right. So, technically, they can monitor every student without our knowledge?"
"Not without knowledge," he corrected. "Just without consent."
Someone actually gasped.
We were putting it all out there, masked as sarcasm, dressed in wit.
But people were listening now.
And listening turns into talking.
Talking? Into action.
---
After that, I became a moving headline.
Whispers turned into full-blown speculation.
> "Did she really expose Foundation surveillance?"
"They say Damien's protecting her — why?"
"If Rosella's not scared… maybe we shouldn't be either."
And then, the ripple:
Students began asking questions.
Then Lara — quiet, calculating Lara — posted a list of anonymous "student rights violations" on the school forum.
Overnight, it got 3,000 views.
The next morning?
It was gone.
Deleted.
But not before screenshots flew faster than rumors ever could.
---
That night, I got a visit.
Not Damien.
Not a Thorn.
But Florence.
The girl who always seemed too still. Too smart.
She didn't knock.
She slid into the room like a ghost with gossip.
"You're making noise," she said, folding her arms. "They don't like noise."
"Good," I said. "Let them listen."
Florence tilted her head.
"There's something you should know," she said. "Veronica's not just angry. She's activated."
I raised a brow. "Meaning?"
"She's digging into your past. Your family. Your mother."
That hit hard.
I stood slowly. "Why would she do that?"
"She thinks you're a weapon," Florence said flatly. "And she wants to dismantle you."
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My heart was thudding. Not from fear — from fury.
Because there's one thing they never learn:
Poor girls come from women who survived everything.
My mother? She's not someone you drag into this like collateral.
She's the reason I know how to fight.
And if they were going to bring her into this?
I'd burn the whole empire myself.
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Later that night, Damien found me by the school chapel.
It was quiet there. Still.
He didn't say hello. Just sat beside me on the stone bench.
"You're shaking," he said softly.
"I'm planning."
He smiled.
"I know that look."
"I want to take her down," I whispered. "Not just Veronica. All of them."
"I'll help you."
I turned toward him. "Even if it costs you everything?"
Damien reached into his coat and pulled out a flash drive.
"This has donor lists, Foundation files, and three years' worth of shady transactions. All real."
I stared at it.
"Why are you giving me this?"
"Because if they come after me," he said, "you'll have what they fear most — proof."
My breath caught.
"You trust me with this?"
"I trust you with me."
---
He didn't kiss me.
He didn't need to.
Because sometimes the most intimate thing someone can do is give you their secrets.
And Damien Carter?
He just gave me his life insurance.
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