Chapter 89: Chapter 89

Aria’s Pov.

The class went by the way classes were when your brain was somewhere else,  present in body and  absent in everything useful.

I took notes I wasn't sure I'd be able to read later, then I spent the rest of the class staring at the board while my head ran through the same loop it had been running since last night.

Before I knew it, the bell sound cut through the classroom.

I gathered my things and I went to the student council meeting.

The council room had the particular energy it always had before we started — everyone had already found a seat, Emma stood at the whiteboard with her colour-coded markers, and Claire was already in her seat with a folder open.

I slid into my chair.

"Okay." Emma looked around the room. "Tomorrow is the basketball semi-final qualifier. Saint Claire basketball team is going away to Lycée Beauvais. We're sending the cheer squad and a group of supporters. Do we have everything we need?"

Logistics. Equipment. Transport confirmed. The checklist moved fast because Emma ran a tight meeting and everyone knew it.

I confirmed the after party update when I was  asked. Everything was still on track. Security had been finalised, and the wristband system was ready.

Then Emma looked at the next item on her board.

"Student Gala," she continued. "Where are we."

Claire went through the venue dressing. Two other students covered catering and the press list.

Emma capped her marker.

"One more thing." She looked at the room. "Madame Beaumont's situation."

The room shifted and I stiffened slightly in my chair.

"Without going into detail," Emma said carefully, "the school is reviewing its procedures in light of what happened. We've been asked as a council to think about whether there are structural changes we'd want to suggest… how students can raise concerns, who they go to, how those concerns are handled." She looked around. "Thoughts?"

The conversation that followed was careful and considered. People talked about anonymous reporting systems, trained welfare contacts and making sure students knew where to go before things reached the point they had with Beaumont.

I said what I could and  kept my voice level.

At the end Emma thanked everyone and the room started to get empty as students headed out.

I was packing up my things when Claire appeared beside me.

"Hey," she said with a smile.

I looked up. "Hey. Good meeting."

"Yeah." She paused. "This is slightly weird to ask but… Camille. Is she okay?"

I hadn’t expected Claire to ask about Camille.

"She's really okay," I said. "Actually. Better than okay."

Claire nodded slowly. "Good. I just wanted to know. I don't know her well but what happened with Beaumont…" She shook her head slightly. "She shouldn't have had to deal with that."

"No," I said. "She shouldn't have."

“She shouldn’t have had to carry any of that.”

I sighed, “But she did.”

Claire looked at me. "You both did."

I looked at her.

"She's strong, she  just needed someone to say it out loud with her."

Claire smiled.

"Good," she said. "See you next meeting."

I smiled back, finished packing my bag and stood there in the empty  room for a moment, thinking about the certainty in Camille’s voice when she’d told me I’d figure it out.

Then I picked up my things and headed home.

The drive home was quiet.

I sat in the back of the car, watching the city drift past beyond the window while my thoughts wandered back to the night before.

I love you.

The words hadn’t left me all day.

Neither had the look on his face when he’d said them.

I closed my eyes for a moment.

Maybe I should have said it back.

Maybe I should have told him everything.

The thought lingered for all of three seconds before I let it go.

No.

Not yet.

I knew why I’d made the choice I had, and I wasn’t ready to regret it.

One day, when all of this was over, I’d tell him everything.

Until then…

I’d have to live with the silence

I let out a slow breath as the familiar gates came into view.

The car rolled through them without slowing.

My room was the same as I'd left it.

I changed out of my uniform, opened the window to let the cool air in, and sat on my bed with my laptop, then I found something to watch.

Outside the light shifted from afternoon to evening.

I reached for my phone.

No messages from Adrien.

He was still  at practice for his semi-finals. I wasn't going to interrupt that.

I placed my phone back down and watched another episode.

And somewhere towards the end of it, My mind drifted to Esme and how off she’d been acting

I picked up my phone and called Lucien.

He picked up on the second ring.

"Hey." His voice was even. His voice sounded a bit occupied like he was studying.

"Hey." I pulled my knees up. "Are you busy?"

"Just finishing  a paper. What's up."

"I want to talk to you about something," I said. "About a girl at school."

“Okay…” A page rustled on his end. “What girl?”

"Her name is Esme. She transferred to Saint Claire last week." I kept my voice level. "She's Camille's… She’s become really close to Camille. But she's been asking questions since the first day she arrived and I can't shake the feeling that something's off."

"What kind of questions."

"About the house. About how long I've been at Saint Claire. About you — she asked Adrien about you, your university, how often you come back. And then yesterday she asked about Cecilia." I paused. "Out of nowhere. In the middle of a completely unrelated conversation."

Silence.

"Lucien."

"I'm thinking," he finally said.

"She transferred to Saint Claire the week after my  yacht party," I said. "And now she's at our school asking specific questions about every person in this house."

"Or," he said carefully, "she's a curious new student who's finding her feet and asking about the people around her."

"Lucien…"

"I'm not dismissing you," he said. "I'm being careful. Because the alternative… if she is what you're suggesting, then my father has a plant inside your school specifically to monitor you, which is a significant escalation and I need more than a few questions before I start operating like that's true."

I pressed my lips together.

"So what do I need?" I said.

"Something concrete," he said. "Something that can help you figure out your suspicions once and for all ."

"I'm going to plant a false detail," I said. "I’ll   her something that isn't true and see if it reaches him."

He was quiet for a moment.

"Be careful with that," he said. "If she is his, and she finds out you tested her…"

"She won't find out."

"You don't know that."

"Lucien." I held the phone. "I know what I’m trying to do."

There was another  pause.

"If you see anything else in the meantime," he said finally, "let me know. But don't do anything drastic before we talk."

"Okay."

"I mean it, Aria."

"I know."

He exhaled. "Get some sleep. My father's semi-final is tomorrow… Adrien's semi-final," he corrected. "Big day."

"I know, he's been in practice all evening."

"He'll be fine." A beat. "He always is under pressure. It's afterwards he struggles."

I thought about the framed jersey on Adrien’s wall. The one he’d looked at before every important game.

"Yeah," I said softly. "I know."

"Goodnight, Aria."

"Goodnight."

The call ended.

I sat in the quiet of my room with the window still open and the evening pressing in from outside.

The show was still playing on my laptop. I'd stopped watching it somewhere around the Esme conversation.

I closed it and laid back on my bed.

She'd asked about Cecilia.

She'd transferred to Saint Claire a week after the yacht party.

Maybe Lucien was right. Maybe she was just curious.

Maybe I was connecting dots that weren't there and building a pattern out of coincidences because I'd been living inside a conspiracy for so long I was starting to see it everywhere.

Maybe.

My instincts rarely lied to me.

I turned onto my side.

Tomorrow, I was going to plant the false detail.

And then I'd know.

I closed my eyes.

One thing at a time, I thought.