Chapter 91 The Alpha’s Invitation
The morning air at Alverstone felt different today. It wasn't just the crisp, biting chill of the oncoming winter; it was the way the light hit the stone arches of the quad, making the entire campus look like a painting I was finally allowed to step inside. After the call from Dean Halloway, the persistent hum of "imposter syndrome" that usually buzzed in my ears had gone quiet. I wasn't just the girl Nate Salvatore had pulled from the wreckage of a bad night; I was a shortlisted candidate for the most prestigious endowment on campus.
I was crossing the courtyard toward the library, my mind drifting between the excitement of the "Evergreen" news and the lingering warmth of Nate’s hug from the night before, when a familiar silhouette detached itself from a group of students near the fountain.
Scarlett Tate moved with a grace that was entirely effortless, her designer coat swaying perfectly with every step. Since I’d arrived at Alverstone, Scarlett had been a strange, constant fixture in my life. She was the first person to actually sit with me, the first to offer a tip on which professors were secretly nightmares, and the first "real" friend I had made in this shark tank.
Of course, "friendship" with Scarlett came with a side of thorns.
"Mila! There you are," she called out, her voice bright and melodious. She reached me, smelling of expensive jasmine and expensive secrets. "I heard the news about the Endowment. Honestly, it’s so inspiring how you manage to keep your grades up despite... well, everything. Most people with your background would have crumbled under the sheer vocabulary requirements alone."
I felt the familiar prickle of a backhanded compliment—the kind of subtle dig Scarlett excelled at—but I brushed it off. I always did. She was an elite; she didn't know how to speak any other way. In her mind, she was being supportive. I had to remind myself that her world was built on a hierarchy I was only just beginning to climb. She wasn't being cruel; she was just being Scarlett.
"Thanks," I said, offering a small smile. "I’m still trying to process it. It feels a bit like a dream."
"Well, wake up, darling, because it’s very real," she said, her expression shifting into something uncharacteristically formal. She reached into her bag and pulled out a thick, cream-colored envelope. It was heavy, embossed with a gold seal depicting a serpent coiled around a sword. "And because it’s real, the adults have decided it's time for you to be properly introduced."
I took the envelope, the texture of the paper feeling like silk against my skin. "What is this?"
"An invitation to the Alpha Sigma Society's induction gala," she said. "The inner sanctum, Mila. They’re hosting a private session for the Endowment finalists."
My breath hitched. The Alpha Sigma Society wasn't just a club; it was the campus’s most powerful network. It was the "Old Guard" of Alverstone. Membership meant access to the kind of power that could move mountains—or at least ensure a seat at the table where the mountains were moved.
"The Alpha Sigma?" I whispered. "I thought you had to be a legacy for this."
"Usually, yes," Scarlett said, tucking a stray blonde lock behind her ear. She leaned in, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "But the Endowment shortlist changes things. It marks you as someone with a certain... trajectory. And let’s be honest, Mila. Nate is already a member of Alpha Sigma. His seat has been reserved since before he was born."
She stepped back, her gaze becoming uncharacteristically sharp, almost maternal in a twisted, high-society way.
"If you want to stand by his side at the University Gala next month, you need to be in this room. You can't just be the girl who saved him, or the girl he’s 'seeing' in secret. You need to be a peer. If you aren't an Alpha Sigma, the Salvatores will always look at you like a temporary distraction. This is your chance to change the narrative before they write the ending for you."
I looked down at the gold seal. Her words hit the center of my deepest insecurity. No matter how much Nate loved me, the world still saw us as a prince and a pauper. Scarlett was offering me the one thing Nate couldn't give me: a status that was recognized by his own people.
"Why are you helping me with this, Scarlett?" I asked, looking at her.
She gave a small, graceful shrug, her expression softening into that friendly mask I’d grown to rely on. "Because I like you, Mila. And because it would be a shame for all that intellect to be wasted just because you didn't know which door to knock on. Don't be late. The board doesn't like to be kept waiting by someone who's still proving they belong."
Another sting. Another justification. She’s just trying to help me prepare for the reality of their world, I told myself.
Scarlett beamed, patting my arm before turning to walk away. "Wear something that says you’ve already won, Mila. First impressions are the only ones that matter when the sun goes down."
I watched her walk away, but as the gold seal caught the morning sun, the euphoria I’d felt earlier began to curdle into something else. A cold knot of apprehension tightened in my stomach.
The ivory paper felt heavy in my hand, almost like a lead weight dragging my hand toward the pavement. If I went, I was stepping into the deep end of a pool I didn't know how to swim in. But if I stayed away, I was proving every one of Nate’s critics right. I would be confirming their belief that I was just a girl from the docks who couldn't handle the pressure of the heights.
I tucked the envelope into my bag, but the warmth of the morning had vanished, replaced by a prickling sense of dread that refused to be ignored. It didn't feel like a prize anymore. It felt like a hook—beautifully crafted, perfectly baited, and designed to snag me the moment I let my guard down. As I turned toward my first lecture, I couldn't shake the feeling that I was no longer walking into a university, but onto a battlefield where the weapons weren't knives or guns, but smiles, status, and the crushing weight of old money.