Chapter 15
Sadie's POV
An hour later, we headed to the cafeteria.
I didn't want to go. But Brooklyn insisted I needed to eat, and Maya said hiding would only make things worse.
The cafeteria was packed—typical lunch rush. The smell of greasy pizza and overcooked vegetables hit me the second we walked in.
And then I felt it.
Eyes. Everywhere.
The noise level dropped by half. Conversations stuttered to a halt. Phones came out.
"Jesus," Brooklyn muttered under her breath. "It's like walking into a zoo."
"Ignore them," Maya said, her voice clipped. "Get your food. Sit down. Act normal."
Normal. Right.
We grabbed trays and got in line. I kept my head down, focusing on the food options like they were the most fascinating thing in the world. Grilled chicken. Wilted salad. Suspicious-looking mac and cheese.
"Sadie Brooks, right?"
I glanced up. A girl I vaguely recognized from AP Lit was staring at me, phone in hand.
"Um. Yeah?"
"So like… are you actually dating Jake Montgomery? Or is it just a hookup thing?"
Brooklyn stepped between us. "Back off, Brittany."
"I'm just asking!" The girl held up her hands defensively. "Everyone wants to know."
"Well, everyone can mind their own business," Brooklyn snapped.
I grabbed a bottle of water and moved down the line, my face burning.
Behind me, I heard more whispers.
"—saw the pictures—"
"—literally in his car—"
"—I heard she's Liam's stepsister now—"
"—that's so messed up—"
Maya touched my elbow. "Almost there."
We paid and turned toward the tables.
That's when I saw her.
Vivienne Sterling.
She was sitting at her usual spot near the floor-to-ceiling windows—the table everyone called "Queen Bee Central." Surrounded by her court: Madison Donovan on her right, Amber Rhodes on her left, and Chloe Bennett across from her. All four of them looked like they'd stepped out of a Revolve campaign. Perfect hair. Perfect makeup. Perfect everything.
And all four of them were staring directly at me.
Vivienne stood.
My stomach dropped.
"Oh shit," Brooklyn whispered. "She's coming over."
"Maybe she'll just walk past us," Zoe said hopefully.
She didn't.
Vivienne crossed the cafeteria like she owned it—which, let's be real, she kind of did. Her heels clicked against the tile floor with every step. Madison, Amber, and Chloe followed close behind, a perfectly synchronized mean-girl formation.
The cafeteria went dead silent.
Vivienne stopped a few feet away, arms crossed, head tilted. Her platinum blonde hair fell in perfect waves over one shoulder. Her smile was venomous.
"Well, well," she drawled, her voice loud enough for half the room to hear. "If it isn't our newest campus celebrity."
I didn't respond.
"Vivienne," Maya said coolly. "We're just trying to eat."
"Oh, I know." Vivienne's eyes stayed locked on me. "I just wanted to say congratulations, Sadie. You've really outdone yourself."
"I don't know what you're talking about," I said quietly.
"Really?" She pulled out her phone, swiped a few times, then held it up.
It was a screenshot from Lion's Den. The post from this morning. The picture of me in Jake's car.
But there was more now.
Someone had commented: "gold digger vibes"
Another: "she's literally using him for clout"
Another: "her mom married a millionaire and now she's going after Jake? pathetic"
My chest tightened.
"See?" Vivienne said sweetly. "Everyone's talking about you. You must be so proud."
"Put the phone away," Brooklyn said, her voice hard.
"Why?" Madison chimed in, stepping forward. She was shorter than Vivienne but just as vicious. "It's public information. Everyone's seen it."
"Yeah," Amber added with a smirk. "It's not like she can hide anymore."
Chloe giggled—high-pitched and fake. "I mean, it's kind of iconic. Going from the projects to the Montgomery estate in, what, two months? That's some serious social climbing."
A few people nearby laughed.
I felt my face go hot.
"Vivienne," Zoe said, her voice calm but firm. "This is unnecessary."
"Unnecessary?" Vivienne's smile widened. She took a step closer. "Your little friend here is sleeping her way into one of the most powerful families in Lincoln Heights, and you think I'm being unnecessary?"
"I'm not sleeping with anyone," I said, my voice low.
"Not yet." Vivienne leaned in, her voice dropping just enough that only our group could hear. "But give it time. That's what girls like you do, right? You find a rich guy. You make him feel special. And then you latch on like a parasite."
"That's enough," Maya snapped.
Vivienne ignored her. "You know what's really funny, though? Your mom did the exact same thing. Worked at some dive diner, right? Barely scraped by. And then—boom—she meets Richard Parker and suddenly she's living in a mansion."
My hands clenched into fists.
"Like mother, like daughter," Madison added with a sneer. "Guess it runs in the family."
"Honestly," Amber said, inspecting her nails, "it's kind of sad. Like, do you even have your own identity? Or are you just copying your mom's playbook?"
Chloe laughed again. "Probably doesn't even know. She's too busy pretending to be someone she's not."
Brooklyn stepped forward. "Say one more word and I swear to God—"
"You'll what?" Vivienne's voice was sharp now. "Hit me? Please. I'd love to see you try. My dad's lawyers would eat you alive."
"Vivienne," a voice called out from across the room. "Leave her alone."
I turned.
It was Ethan Park—student council president, debate team captain, and one of the few people in this school who actually seemed decent. He was standing a few tables away, arms crossed, expression serious.
Vivienne rolled her eyes. "Oh, look. Sadie's got a white knight."
"I'm serious," Ethan said. "This is harassment."
"Harassment?" Vivienne laughed. "I'm just having a conversation."
"No," a girl at a nearby table said—someone I didn't recognize. "You're being a bitch."
A few people murmured in agreement.
Vivienne's smile faltered for half a second. Then it snapped back into place, sharper than before.
"You know what?" She turned back to me. "I was going to let this go. I really was. But you just had to show up today, didn't you? You just had to walk in here like you belong."
"I do belong," I said quietly.
"No." Her voice was ice-cold now. "You don't."
She reached for her drink—a large iced latte from the coffee cart near the entrance.
And then, in one smooth motion, she tilted it forward.
Cold liquid splashed across my head, soaking my hair, dripping down my face, staining the front of my oversized cream sweater.
The cafeteria exploded.
Gasps. Shouts. Someone screamed, "Oh my God!"