Chapter 3

NATASHA'S POV

The fluorescent lights of Mrs. Gable's classroom seemed to hum with an unnatural intensity, each hum a tiny jab at my already frayed nerves.

The whispers, once a low murmur, had swelled into a full-blown chorus, each syllable a tiny dagger aimed at my heart.

"Who did she think she was to slap Nick like that?" A girl with a face full of perfectly sculpted eyebrows sneered, her gaze sweeping over me with disdain.

"I wonder," another chimed in, her voice dripping with mock sympathy.

"And the funniest part? Oliver and Miles didn't even do anything. Just stood there, watching her humiliate one of them."

Oliver and Miles. The reigning gods of our social circle. Their silence, their almost amused expressions, felt like a personal betrayal.

"Even Alice couldn't do anything," the first girl scoffed. "She's just…ordinary. Like she actually thought she could get away with it."

"Maybe Oliver is planning a grand torture for her," a third girl suggested, her voice laced with a chilling glee.

"Who knows what those two have in store for her."

The whispers swirled around me, a venomous tide threatening to drown me. I clutched my backpack tighter, the leather digging into my palms, a desperate attempt to anchor myself to reality.

My stomach churned, a nauseous dread creeping up my throat.

The bell finally rang, a jarring sound that shattered the suffocating silence that had descended upon the classroom.

I scrambled to my feet, my movements jerky, my gaze fixed on the floor. I had to get out of there, escape the suffocating weight of their judgment.

As I navigated the throng of students, a shadow fell over me. I looked up to see Alice, her usual carefree expression replaced by a furrow of concern.

"Why did you slap him?" she asked, her voice soft yet direct.

"Why did he pull my hair?" I retorted, my voice sharper than intended. The sting of his fingers still lingered, a painful reminder of his arrogance.

"He was just joking," she said, her voice laced with a hint of disapproval. "Nick can be…playful. You shouldn't have slapped him, especially in front of everyone."

"Next time, he'll know where to direct his 'jokes'," I said, my voice tight. I started walking again, leaving her standing alone in the hallway, her gaze following my retreating figure.

I wondered if she was still the same Alice I used to know. Alice, who wouldn't even try to talk it our reasonably with me, came me to and discuss like a responsible being. Now, she seemed…distant, almost hesitant.

I suspected Evenly had something to do with it. Evenly, with her effortless grace and her unwavering loyalty to her boyfriend.

And then there was my father.

Evenly, like everyone else in school, knew Hardin Royce. She knew his name was synonymous with success, with power. But she didn't know about me. His daughter. The secret heiress to his empire. It was a bizarre kind of anonymity, living under the shadow of a name I couldn't claim.

Alice, with her insatiable curiosity about my father, knew more about his business ventures than I did. She could probably recite his entire career trajectory from memory. Yet, she remained blissfully unaware of the existence of the very person who made it all possible.

Reaching the school park, I spotted Marcus waiting by the car, his posture stiff, his gaze fixed on the ground.

"Ma'am," he greeted, his voice a low rumble. He bowed his head slightly, a gesture that always made me cringe.

"I told you, no formalities outside," I said, sliding into the car. "Someone might see."

"I'm sorry, ma'am. It's a habit," he mumbled, his eyes darting nervously towards the rearview mirror.

Marcus had been a lifeline since Sarah and Raymond left. He listened to my rants, offered words of comfort, and even shared stories of his own rebellious youth.

"Marcus," I began, my voice hesitant. "Do you think I was wrong to slap him?"

He glanced at me through the rearview mirror, his eyebrows raised in surprise. "You slapped someone?"

"Yes. He pulled my hair. I didn't know what else to do."

I expected a lecture, a stern admonishment about the importance of self-control. But to my surprise, he said, "You did the right thing."

His words hung in the air, unexpected and strangely comforting. I had braced myself for disapproval, for a reminder of the importance of maintaining a good reputation. Instead, I found myself nodding in agreement.

"He'll think twice before crossing that line again," Marcus said, a hint of a smile playing on his lips.

"Thank you," I said, genuinely grateful for his unwavering support. "I thought you'd tell me I should have just reported him or something."

"I did my fair share of…disciplinary actions back in high school," he said, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Not as a bully, mind you. More like…enforcing justice."

I couldn't help but chuckle. "Oh, I see."

The rest of the ride home was filled with a comfortable silence, punctuated by Marcus's occasional anecdotes about his misadventures in high school. It was a welcome distraction from the anxieties that had plagued me all day.

As I stepped out of the car, I was surprised to see the front door swing open. Sarah stood there, her face beaming, her arms outstretched.

"Sarah!" I cried, rushing towards her. "You didn't tell me you were coming back today! We spoke yesterday!"

"Wouldn't want to spoil the surprise, now would I?" she teased, pulling me into a tight hug. "Look at you, all grown up. You are Such a sophisticated young lady."

"Don't even start," I said, laughing. "Look at you! Those…those are real?" I gestured towards her chest, unable to resist teasing her.

"Oh, hush," she said, playfully swatting my arm. "You've changed too, you know. Much more…sassy."

"I've been practising," I admitted with a wink.

We spent the next hour catching up, recounting our separate adventures, filling in the gaps of the past eight years.

"So, you slapped one of the most popular guys in school, and Alice didn't even raise a finger?" Sarah summarized, her eyes wide with amusement.

"That's my girl," she declared, giving me a triumphant pat on the arm. "I wish I could have been there to see it. To punch that…that…whatever he is in the face."

"You've never even seen him," I pointed out.

"Instagram," she said with a dismissive wave of her hand. "That…that…creature posts enough selfies to fill a small library."

"It will be alright," she declared, her grin widening. "Don't worry, I've got your back. No one messes with my sister."

The thought of Sarah having my back, of having her by my side again, filled me with a sense of warmth that I hadn't felt in years.

"What about your dad?" Sarah asked, her playfuldemeanourr fading slightly. "Is he going to find out?"

The question hung in the air, unspoken anxieties swirling beneath the surface. I hadn't even considered the consequences of my actions.

"Sooner or later, he'll find out," I admitted, a knot of apprehension tightening in my stomach. "But for now," I added, forcing a smile, "let's just enjoy this. Enjoy having you back."

Sarah smiled, her eyes crinkling at the corners. "That's the spirit. Besides," she added, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper, "a little bit of trouble never hurt anyone."

The rest of the evening was a whirlwind of laughter and reminiscing. We recounted childhood memories, shared embarrassing secrets, and made plans for the future. It felt like nothing had changed, like the past few years had simply vanished, leaving us exactly where we had left off.

As my father finally appeared, his face etched with a tired smile, I realized that perhaps, just perhaps, things were starting to look up. Maybe this unexpected reunion, this unexpected altercation, was a sign that things were about to get interesting.

And for the first time in a long time, I felt a thrill of excitement, a sense of anticipation for the unknown.