Chapter 28 The lion den
Chapter 28: The Lion’s Den (Elena’s POV)
The bed in the West Wing was too soft. It was the kind of mattress that felt like it wanted to swallow you whole, and for a girl who had spent her life on a thin foam pad in a room that smelled like damp walls, it felt wrong. I didn't sleep. I sat by the window in my silk gown, watching the moon reflect off the private lake until the sun started to bleed over the horizon.
I was in. I had made it past the gates, through the foyer, and into the very heart of the Vance empire. But as I looked at the luxury surrounding me, I knew this wasn't a victory lap. It was a siege.
I dressed slowly. I chose a simple, black turtleneck and a grey skirt—something that made me look like the tutor they hired, not the girl who had just set their social lives on fire. I grabbed my cane, checked the envelope hidden in my bag one last time, and headed toward the dining room.
I could hear them before I saw them. The clink of silver against china. The low, rumbling voice of Marcus Vance. And the high, brittle laugh of Chloe Miller.
My stomach did a slow flip, but I pushed the feeling down. I forced my shoulders back and walked into the room.
The dining hall was bathed in morning light. Marcus sat at the head of the table, looking like a king presiding over a crumbling court. Liam was to his right, staring at his coffee as if it held the secrets to the universe. And there, sitting in the chair next to him, was Chloe. She looked perfect, of course. Her hair was swept back in a flawless ponytail, and her blue eyes were bright with a malice that could kill.
"Ah, Elena," Marcus said, not looking up from his newspaper. "You’re finally awake. Sit. We were just discussing the schedule for the week."
I sat at the far end of the table, as far away from Chloe as possible. A maid immediately placed a plate of eggs and fruit in front of me. It looked delicious. I wanted to throw it at the wall.
"I didn't know we were having guests, Mr. Vance," I said, my voice steady.
"Chloe isn't a guest, Elena," Chloe chirped, her voice dripping with fake honey. "I’m family. My father and Marcus are closing the merger this week. I’ll be here a lot more often. You should probably get used to seeing me. Maybe you can even help me pick out my dress for the engagement gala."
Liam choked on his coffee. He looked at Chloe, then at me, his eyes full of a frustrated, tired anger. "Chloe, stop it. It’s eight in the morning."
"I'm just being friendly, Liam!" Chloe pouted, reaching over to pat his hand. "After all, Elena and I have so much to talk about. Like those 'documents' she brought to the brunch. It’s funny, Marcus, but I checked my computer logs, and it turns out someone hacked into my system two weeks ago. Isn't that wild?"
She looked at me, her smile widening. "The police said it’s a felony. Identity theft, tampering with private data... the kind of thing that gets a scholarship revoked and sends a girl straight to a very different kind of institution than Northview."
I took a sip of my water, feeling the coldness travel down my throat. "Funny you should mention the police, Chloe. I was thinking the same thing about the exam keys. I wonder what they’ll say when they see the bank transfers from the hockey team’s parents into your private account. 'Charity,' right?"
Marcus Vance finally lowered his paper. The air in the room went cold. "Enough. Both of you."
He looked at me, his eyes like two pieces of flint. "Elena, you are here because I have allowed it. You will attend your classes, you will tutor my son, and you will keep your mouth shut about school politics. If I hear one more word about 'documents' or 'hacks,' I will personally ensure your mother’s medical coverage is 'reviewed' by the board. Do I make myself clear?"
The threat was a physical blow. My mother. He knew exactly where to hit.
"Clear," I whispered.
"Good," Marcus said, standing up. "Liam, take Chloe to school. Elena, the driver will take you in twenty minutes. Don't be late."
He walked out, leaving the three of us in a silence so heavy it felt like it was crushing the lungs out of my chest.
Chloe stood up, leaning over the table toward me. She didn't have to pretend anymore. The mask was off. "You think you’re so smart, don't you? Moving in here, playing the victim. But look at you. You're sitting at the end of the table like a servant. You're eating his food, breathing his air, and the second you stop being useful, he’s going to toss you out like trash."
"Maybe," I said, looking her dead in the eye. "But I'll make sure you're in the bin right next to me."
Chloe’s face contorted. She grabbed her glass of orange juice and, with a slow, deliberate movement, poured it over my plate. The bright yellow liquid soaked into the expensive eggs and dripped onto the white linen tablecloth.
"Oops," she whispered. "I guess you're not hungry anymore."
Liam stood up, his chair screeching. "Chloe! What the hell is wrong with you?"
"What's wrong with me?" Chloe turned on him, her eyes filling with tears that I knew were fake. "She ruined my life, Liam! She stood on that stage and called me a thief! And now she’s living in your house? How can you stand her?"
Liam looked at me, and for a split second, I saw it—the disgust. Not just for Chloe, but for the whole situation. He looked at the ruined food, the juice dripping off the table, and the girl in the red dress who had brought war into his sanctuary.
"I can't stand either of you," Liam said, his voice raw.
He grabbed his keys and walked out of the room. Chloe shot me one last look of pure, unadulterated hate before running after him, calling his name in that high, annoying voice.
I sat there alone in the giant dining room. I looked at my ruined breakfast. I looked at the juice staining the floor.
I didn't cry. I didn't scream. I just picked up my napkin and started to wipe the table.
"Is everything okay, Miss?" a maid asked, hovering near the door.
"Fine," I said, standing up and grabbing my cane. "I just realized I don't like orange juice."
I walked out of the house and stood on the porch, waiting for the driver. The air was cold, and the sun was too bright, but I felt a strange, flickering warmth in my chest.
Chloe was scared. Marcus was defensive. And Liam was breaking.
They thought they had me in a cage, but they didn't realize that a cage works both ways. They weren't just keeping me in; they were trapped in here with me. And I had all the time in the world to find their breaking points.
I reached school and found my locker covered in red paint.