Crowns and Claws

Brielle strode into the chaotic heart of the cafeteria, and just like that—the air changed.

She didn't need to speak. She didn't need to announce herself. They felt it.

Eyes followed her every move. Some were filled with admiration and awe. Others burned with jealousy and resentment. But Brielle? Unbothered. She wore an invisible armor of self-assurance, a shield forged from resilience and a deep-rooted belief that she was better than this petty drama.

Let them stare. Let them talk.

She was back.

And they were not ready.

---

At the grand table that had long been her throne, Jules sat like an imposter queen.

Fingers twisting a silky lock of platinum hair, surrounded by her eager little minions. They laughed at all the right moments, nodded at every word, desperate to bask in her fading glow.

Jules Monroe.

The fake Queen.

A counterfeit crown on borrowed time.

She plastered on a sweet, venom-laced smile. But Brielle saw the cracks. The hairline fractures in her carefully curated confidence.

> "Look who's back from exile," Jules drawled, her voice pitched perfectly for the crowd.

Laughter erupted from her table. A chorus of shallow giggles. Scripted. Fake.

Brielle tilted her head, a slow, dangerous smirk curling at her lips. Her gaze locked onto Jules like a predator about to pounce.

> "Still rehearsing your lines, Jules? How… adorable."

---

Silence.

The whole cafeteria froze.

Forks hovered mid-air. A soda can fizzed in the distance, forgotten. Even the janitor, mid-mop, stopped.

The tension? Thick.

Jules's face flushed pink, her carefully crafted mask slipping for half a second.

She recovered fast. Too fast.

> "Oh, honey," Jules purred, her voice like sugar laced with cyanide. "This school has moved on, and you're just… old news now."

Her followers laughed louder than necessary. Overcompensating.

Cute.

Brielle took one step forward. The sharp click of her heels against the tile sounded like a countdown.

She leaned in, her voice dropping to a private, velvet whisper meant only for Jules.

> "Funny."

"I don't remember ever giving up my crown."

Jules stiffened.

The buzz in the cafeteria shifted—like a storm was about to break.

Brielle stood tall, her dazzling smile reaching only her lips, her posture radiating effortless dominance.

And then, with a playful wink, she turned on her heel and walked away. Untouchable.

Her hips swayed with the kind of confidence that left people breathless.

This wasn't over.

It had just begun.

---

Her phone buzzed.

At the exit, she pulled it out.

> Unknown Number:

"Move carefully, Queen. They're planning your downfall."

Brielle stared at the message.

Then, she smiled.

Let them try.

This wasn't just a comeback.

This was a war.

And Brielle Kingston?

She was already sharpening her claws.