Chapter 101 Look who just walked in
Dark grey clouds hang over the sky on the first morning of my senior year. The weather fits my mood too well. I have never hated the idea of going to school this much in my life.
Mr. Thorne insists on driving me in his Rolls Royce. He says it like it is some proud moment, like he has every right to drop me off himself. I know better than to argue. When he makes up his mind, there is no point fighting it. He wants to be there for my first day. Which also means everyone is about to find out that the so called nobody Sophie Bennett lives in the Thorne mansion.
So much for keeping a low profile.
During the drive, he keeps trying to talk. Asking if I packed everything. Telling me senior year will go by fast. Saying how proud he is of my grades. I answer him, but my words keep fading halfway. My stomach feels wrong. The closer we get to school, the worse it gets. I feel like I might throw up right there in his perfect leather seats.
When we pull up to the front gate, I see why this place has a reputation. The parking lot looks like a car show. Back at my old school, most students drove whatever their families could afford. Old Hondas. Used Prius. Cars with scratched doors and faded paint. Nobody cared.
Here, Mercedes and Porsche look normal. I even see a bright sports car glide in, doors lifting up like wings. It draws attention, but not for long.
Because then our Rolls pulls in.
Even among all these expensive cars, it stands out. Of course it does.
The second I open the passenger door, I feel it. Eyes turning. Heads shifting. People pretending not to stare while very clearly staring.
I want the ground to open and swallow me.
“Good luck,” Mr. Thorne says softly.
“Yeah. Thanks,” I mumble before quickly stepping away from the car.
I move toward the front office, dropping my hair over my shoulder to block as much of my face as possible. If I can not disappear, at least I can hide a little.
Inside, the office is packed. A long line curves around the room. I did not expect this many transfer students. Mom told me this is the most prestigious school in the city. The second a seat opens up, families fight for it.
I step into line and clear my throat, trying to talk to the guy in front of me.
“Um, sorry. Is this the line for new transfers?”
He turns around, smiling easily. “Yeah, it is. We pick up schedules and campus maps here.”
He looks relieved to have someone to talk to.
“I am Eddie,” he says. “You are new too?”
He seems nice enough, so I hold out my hand. “Yes. Nice to meet you. I am Sophie Bennett.”
The second my name leaves my mouth, his face changes.
He stares at me like I just said something insane.
“Sophie?” he repeats. “The Sophie Bennett?”
My chest tightens. “Yeah. I mean… I guess.”
His smile disappears. Just like that. His expression turns cold. He does not shake my hand. He does not say anything else. He simply turns back around, leaving my hand hanging awkwardly between us.
What the hell just happened?
I slowly lower my arm. Either Eddie has serious issues, or I have walked into something I do not understand.
When I glance around, it gets worse. A few people who were obviously staring at me quickly look away. Some pretend to check their phones. Some suddenly find the wall very interesting.
All right. Something is definitely wrong.
I knew being Alexander Thorne’s stepdaughter might attract attention. But this? This feels personal. Did rumors spread already? How fast does gossip move in this place?
The line moves. My thoughts race.
Finally, I reach the front desk.
“Name?” the red haired receptionist asks without looking up.
“Sophie Bennett.”
Her head lifts immediately. Her eyes lock on me with clear recognition.
There it is again.
“I am sorry,” I say before I can stop myself. “Have we met? Or have you heard my name before?”
“No,” she says quickly. Too quickly. Then she adjusts. “Well, I have seen your file. Your transcript is impressive. I am sure you will do well here.”
She hands me my schedule and a campus map and starts explaining where everything is. Her tone is professional. Calm. Normal.
But something feels off. Like there is more she is not saying.
I thank her and leave for my first class. Literature. Building 8.
It takes me a few minutes to find it. The hallway smells like new paint and expensive perfume. When I finally reach the classroom door, my heart pounds so hard it hurts.
I open it.
Conversation stops.
Every head turns.
I swallow and force myself to walk inside like nothing is wrong. I explain to the teacher that I am a transfer. When I tell her my name, she does not react strangely. Thank God.
She gives me a reading list and tells me to sit in the empty seat at the back.
As I walk down the aisle, I catch looks. Curious. Cold. Some of them openly hostile.
I have done nothing. I have said nothing. And yet I feel like an enemy walking into a war zone.
The morning goes downhill from there.
When I ask a girl for directions between classes, she looks right through me and keeps walking. A guy deliberately bumps into my shoulder in an empty hallway. I hear my name more than once, spoken in low voices behind me. The second I turn to see who said it, people suddenly scatter.
This is humiliating.
I have not even been here a full day and I am already treated like some kind of freak.
The worst part is not knowing why.
By lunch, I am mentally exhausted. I walk into the café and see groups already formed. Laughter. Conversations. Familiar faces sitting comfortably together.
Eddie is there too, at a large table. He is laughing like nothing happened earlier. So clearly, the problem is not transfer students.
It is me.
I grab a tray and look for an empty seat. I find a table with a few open chairs and head toward it.
Before I can sit, a ginger haired girl at the table looks up.
“That seat is taken,” she says immediately.
Heat crawls up my neck. I refuse to let her see it.
“I can move when your friend gets here,” I reply calmly.
She stares at me like I have lost my mind. “There are other seats. Go sit somewhere else.”
I have had enough.
I pull out the chair and sit down. “No thanks. I am fine here.”
Her eyes widen. She clearly did not expect me to ignore her. She glares at me like she wants to burn a hole through my face.
Good. She can try.
Right then, I hear my name.
“Sophie!”
I turn around.
Katherine walks toward me, smiling. The same girl I met during the school tour.
She looks even more put together today. Her honey brown hair is brushed back in soft waves. Her makeup is light but perfect. She carries herself like she belongs anywhere she stands.
And yet she heads straight for me.
“You made it,” she says brightly. “How is your first day?”
My brain goes blank for a second. Before I can answer, she places her tray down and sits beside me.
She could sit at any table in this café. She chooses this one. She chooses me.
The ginger haired girl makes an annoyed sound, but Katherine ignores her.
She leans slightly closer. “Rough morning?”
“You have no idea,” I admit.
She glances around before lowering her voice. “Do you want to know why?”
My stomach drops. “Why?”
“Rossi Vale posted about you last night. On all her socials. Your name. Your picture. Everything. She basically declared open sLiam on you. Now everyone thinks you are a target.”
I almost choke.
Rossi.
Of course it is her.
“That blonde psycho has lost her fucking mind,” I say under my breath. “Locking up my phone and trapping me was not enough? Now she does this?”
Katherine studies my face. “So you know why?”
“I have a theory,” I reply bitterly. “It probably has something to do with her obsession with Liam.”
Katherine exhales slowly. “This is not small. She is like royalty here. Nobody goes against her.”
I let out a dry laugh. “Queen Rossi and King Liam. What a pair.”
Then a new worry creeps in. “What about you? If people see us talking…”
She shrugs lightly and gives me a playful look. “I think she is wrong about this. So I picked my side.”
Something tight inside my chest loosens. All morning I have felt alone. Completely exposed. And suddenly, one person sits next to me without hesitation.
I do not even know how to thank her properly.
Before I can say anything else, her eyes move past me toward the entrance.
“Speaking of the devil,” she murmurs. “Look who just walked in.”