REVENGE IS A DISH BEST SERVED COLD

The wind carried a sharp chill that night, whispering through the cracks of the old boarding school like a warning. In a dimly lit corner of the school grounds, Alexander leaned against the stone wall, arms crossed, eyes gleaming with malice. His minions stood around him, waiting for his orders.

"Are you sure about this, Alex?" Mason muttered. "If we get caught—"

"We won't." His voice was smooth, controlled. "By morning, that pathetic little rat will wish she never stepped foot in this school."

A wicked smirk tugged at his lips as he pulled a delicate, golden brooch from his pocket—the one he had stolen from Headmistress Grimshaw's office. The piece shimmered under the faint moonlight, its polished surface unmarred by dust or age. It was her prized possession, a relic from the school's founding days, and its disappearance would send the whole school into chaos.

And when it was found in Tasha Monroe's belongings?

She would be finished.

Alexander twirled the brooch between his fingers before nodding toward his most trusted lackey, Mason. "You know what to do."

Mason nodded, slipping into the shadows like a specter followed by Alex

Tonight, Tasha's downfall would begin.

The dimly lit corridor was silent except for the sound of hurried footsteps. Mason's breath came in short, panicked bursts as he followed Alexander through the abandoned section of the school, his hands shaking at his sides. The golden brooch weighed heavy in his pocket—a cursed thing, burning against his skin like guilt itself.

"Alex," Mason finally spoke, voice tight with unease. "This is—this is too much."

Alexander didn't stop. His posture was rigid, his jaw clenched as he led them deeper into the empty corridor, where the moonlight barely reached through the high windows.

Mason swallowed hard. "We're talking about framing someone. If we get caught—"

Alexander whipped around so fast that Mason nearly stumbled backward.

"If?" Alexander's voice was deadly quiet, yet it carried the weight of a warning. His dark eyes bore into Mason's, sharp enough to carve through bone. "Do I look like someone who gets caught?"

Mason licked his lips, his throat dry. "N-No, but—"

"You're shaking," Alexander observed, tilting his head slightly. "You afraid, Mason?"

Mason took a step back instinctively. "I just—maybe we should pick someone else. Someone with actual dirt on them. Tasha's got nothing—she's just some nobody. If Grimshaw actually believes we—"

Before he could finish, Alexander lunged.

A fist grabbed the front of Mason's collar, and in a blur, his back slammed against the cold stone wall. A sharp gasp tore from his lips as pain jolted through his spine.

Alexander's face was inches from his, eyes dark with something far more violent than anger. His grip tightened, fingers digging into the fabric of Mason's shirt.

"You think I give a damn who it is?" Alexander's voice dripped with venom, his breath hot against Mason's face. "You think I care if it's Tasha or anyone else?"

Mason gritted his teeth, trying not to shake. Alexander wasn't just mad—he was seething.

"You weren't the one who got slapped in front of the entire student body" Alexander hissed, his fingers tightening even more. "You didn't stand there like an idiot while your own girlfriend humiliated you."

Mason swallowed hard.

Celeste's slap had been loud enough to echo across the courtyard. The gasps, the laughter, the way she had called him a coward—it had done something to Alexander.

Something ugly.

"She looked me in the eyes and told me I was pathetic," Alexander spat. "Because I didn't get revenge for her." His lips curled in disgust. "Because I let Lina walk away after getting her detention."

His grip on Mason's collar loosened slightly, only to slam him against the wall again.

Mason winced. "Alex—"

"You don't get it, do you?" Alexander's voice was low, furious. "This isn't just about Celeste. It's about respect. Fear. If I let this slide, if I don't crush someone for it—what does that make me?"

Mason didn't answer. He couldn't.

Alexander exhaled sharply, eyes narrowing. Then, suddenly, his grip loosened completely, and Mason stumbled forward, gasping.

Alexander took a step back, adjusting his collar as if nothing had happened. His expression smoothed over, but his eyes still burned.

"Be useful," he murmured, voice calm now—too calm. "Do what I told you. Put the brooch in Tasha's stuff."

Mason hesitated, rubbing his sore neck.

"But what if—"

Alexander's eyes darkened instantly.

"Do it."

A silence stretched between them. The air felt thick, suffocating.

Finally, Mason nodded, defeated. His hands still trembled as he turned away, disappearing down the hall, the weight of the golden brooch still pressing against his palm.

Alexander watched him go, his lips curling into a cold smirk.

By morning, Tasha Monroe would never lift her head in this school again.

" I promised you babe, I'll get your revenge for you"

Morning arrived in a blur of chatter and clinking silverware as students filled the dining hall for breakfast. The air was thick with excitement—rumors about the recent murders still stirred among the students, but today, another drama was brewing.

Tasha barely touched her meal, the previous night still haunting her thoughts. Lina nudged her.

"Hey, you good?"

Tasha blinked, snapping out of her daze. "Yeah. Just tired."

Lina and Naomi exchanged a glance but said nothing.

Across the hall, Alexander and Celeste exchanged knowing smirks. The trap had been set. Now, all they had to do was wait.

The first sign of trouble came after first-period classes.

The voice of a panicked student echoed through the corridors.

"Someone broke into the Headmistress's office!"

The hallway erupted into chaos. Students whispered, some gasped, others sprinted toward the commotion. Tasha, Lina, and Naomi stepped out of their classroom, confusion written on their faces.

"What's happening?" Naomi asked, standing on tiptoe to see over the crowd.

"Something about the headmistress's stuff being stolen," a passing student muttered.

A sharp boom rang out—the sound of Grimshaw's cane striking the marble floor.

"All students, back to your dormitories! There will be an immediate inspection!"

Whispers turned into full-blown panic. Inspections were rare, and when they happened, it meant someone was in serious trouble.

By midday, every dormitory had been searched. Footsteps thundered up and down the halls as prefects and teachers rummaged through trunks, lockers, and beds.

Then came the moment that froze time itself.

A loud gasp.

A prefect lifted a small, velvet pouch from under Tasha's mattress. The golden brooch glowed like a cursed artifact in the dim dormitory light.

Silence fell.

Tasha's heart stopped.

"What—" Her voice cracked. "That's not mine!"

The prefect's face was blank, but her fingers tightened around the brooch. "Tasha Monroe, please come with me."

Her body locked in place. Every student in the dorm stared. Some looked shocked, others smirked, and a few whispered.

"She stole from the headmistress?"

"I knew there was something weird about her."

"She's done for."

Lina shot up from her bed. "This is bullshit! Someone planted that!"

"Enough!" The prefect's sharp tone cut through the tension. "Tasha Monroe, you are to report to the headmistress's office immediately."

Tasha felt her legs move, but her mind screamed in protest.

This couldn't be happening.

The office smelled of aged paper and antique wood, but today, it felt like a prison.

Headmistress Grimshaw sat behind her massive desk, her piercing eyes locked on Tasha like a predator.

"You disappoint me, Miss Monroe." Her voice was ice. "Stealing from this institution is a crime that will not go unpunished."

Tasha's breath hitched. "I didn't steal it! I swear, someone—someone must have put it there!"

"Do you take me for a fool?" Grimshaw's voice rose slightly. "That brooch was in your dormitory, under your mattress. How do you explain that?"

Tasha opened her mouth, but no words came.

How could she explain something she didn't even understand?

"Miss Grimshaw, I know Tasha! She wouldn't—" Lina started, but Grimshaw slammed her cane against the desk.

"Silence!"

Lina gritted her teeth, fists clenched.

Naomi looked ready to cry.

Alexander and Celeste stood by the doorway, silent spectators of their own cruel game. Alexander's lips curled into a smirk.

Grimshaw turned back to Tasha. "This school has no place for thieves. I should have you expelled immediately."

Tasha staggered. Expelled? No, no, this wasn't happening.

"But I… I swear I didn't—"

Grimshaw raised a hand, stopping her. "However," she said, voice thick with disdain, "you will be given a chance to prove your loyalty to this school. As punishment, you will clean the entire schoolyard and corridors for a month. If you refuse, you will be expelled immediately."

The weight of her words crashed down like a hammer.

Tasha felt the walls close in. The stolen brooch, the whispers, the silent victory in Alexander's eyes.

She had been trapped.

And no one—not Lina, not Naomi, not even herself—could save her from it.

As she walked back to her dorm, escorted by a prefect, her vision blurred.

From the corner of her eye, she caught Alexander watching her, arms crossed, victorious.

He tilted his head, mouthing something only she could see.

"Game over."

Unknown to all of them, another pair of eyes had been watching.

Collins stood by the farthest window, arms folded, unreadable. He had seen everything. The way the brooch had mysteriously appeared, the smirks exchanged between Alexander and Celeste, the fake concern in their voices as they stood among the crowd.

He wasn't stupid.

This was a setup.

His jaw tightened.

Tasha was many things—quiet, awkward, easily flustered—but a thief? No. That wasn't who she was.

Alexander had played his cards well. Too well.

A slow exhale left Collins' lips as he turned away from the window, hands sinking into his pockets.

He could let this go. Let Tasha fight her own battle

Or

A slow smirk ghosted across his lips.

He could start a battle of his own.