Chapter Three: Burning her bridge

Wednesday came pretty quickly.

The job was not complete yet, she had one final most important task. Registering her name in the system with her new ID and also getting her uniform.

By 7:30 a.m., Adele stood before the curved silver gates of Saerrowell, excitement and fear bubbling in the depth of her stomach.

She took a breath.

Her fingers closed around the access ID Nyra had fashioned exclusively for her. This was it. One scan. One beep. If this went wrong, she was fried.

The gate blinked green.

She was in. She proceeded towards the grand halls of the school with caution as she calms her shuddering breath.

Adele had not seen the school from up close, she couldn't believe all she was looking at. The school was even more luxurious than her wildest imaginations. Deserving students scattered across the room, each one screaming a different degree of wealth than the other.

Some chatting,others gliding across the room with their noses high in the air. Some snooty girls gather round the statue at the center of the hall giggling and squealing.

The attention to detail was impeccable, nothing was out of place. She already knew Saerrowell for its elegance and grace so her surprise was minimal.

She quickly put herself together and walked briskly towards the office.

" Miss Falon" a woman asked as soon as she walked through the doors. Adele nodded her head, curiosity clearly written over her face.

"We were expecting you" she beamed "I'm Irene, the administrative director, your ID verification at the gate was also identified here." Irene concluded gesturing at the system behind her. She exuded a chilling kind of warmth . Her smile didn't even reach her eyes. Adele couldn't help but see Lucille in this woman. The frozen shoulders, the stale smile, the grace and eloquence in every movement bore a striking resemblance.

"Um, yes...that's me, I actually came to complete all the formalities"

"Of course miss, you'll have your uniform fitting today and hopefully you can resume on Monday"

"Absolutely ma'am" Adele said finally shaking off her nervousness and relaxing.

Back at the Lorrington penthouse, tension boiled.

"Adele!" Lucille's voice rang through the marble halls.

Clarisse leaned against the doorway with arms folded. "She's been sneaking out again."

"She's seventeen, not seven," Mr. Lorrington said calmly, sipping his drink.

"No. She's upto some trouble," Clarisse snapped. "She's not even sulking anymore. She's planning something."

Lucille slammed her tablet on the table. "I checked the logs. Her ID scanned into the Upper Grid this morning. She doesn't have clearance."

Mr. Lorrington frowned now.

They heard the front door open.

Adele entered quietly, uniform folded over her arm, bag hanging loosely on her shoulder.

Lucille was the first to move. "Where were you?"

Adele shrugged. "Out."

"Out where?" Clarisse demanded.

"I don't owe you explanations," Adele said, heading toward the stairs.

Mr. Lorrington stood. "You do. To us. We're your family."

That broke something in her. Adele turned, voice cooling a few degrees more.

"Family huh?,family doesn't tear someone down every time they try to breathe."

Lucille stepped closer. "You failed. And instead of facing it, you're sneaking around? What are you trying to prove?"

Adele's voice cracked. "That I'm not what you say I am. That I can still be someone."

Clarisse scoffed. "By what? Pretending? Do you really think you can fake your way into Saerrowell?"

Silence.

Adele froze.

Lucille's eyes narrowed. "Oh. So that's what this is."

Mr. Lorrington's glass slipped and shattered on the floor.

"You almost got away though but I guess I just proved why I'm smarter. You didn't expect your secret to be out so quickly, did you?" Clarisse said as a sickening smirk crept on her face.

"You forged your way in?" Lucille's voice rose.

"You're unbelievable," Clarisse whispered. "Do you even know what'll happen if they find out?"

Adele looked around at them. At the outrage. The disappointment. But none of it was because they cared. It was about image. About their pride.

"I'm done here," she said softly.

"You're not going anywhere," Lucille warned.

But Adele was already climbing the stairs. Ten minutes later, she descended with a single suitcase.

Lucille stood in her way.

"Step aside."

"No."

"I wasn't asking."

Something in her tone made Lucille move. Adele walked to the door, stopped, and looked back at her father who was staring blankly at her.

"You had a daughter once," she said. "But you killed her with your silence."

Then she left.

It rained.

Of course it did.

Adele's suitcase rolled through puddles as she walked toward the tram station. No home. No backup. Just grit and the memory of Nyra's number saved in her phone.

By the time she reached Nyra's building, she was soaked and shaking.

Nyra opened the door in a hoodie, eating chips.

"Told you not to show up like a drama series protagonist," she said, stepping aside.

Adele dropped the bag and leaned against the wall.

"I need to disappear," she whispered. "Not just from them. From me."

Nyra studied her face. Then nodded.

"Then we burn the old version."

The next few days were a blur.

Her hair was dyed a soft ash brown.

Face — contoured, reshaped with subtle shadows and highlights.

Eyebrows — thinned, reshaped.

A new posture. A colder tone. A different way of walking. Nyra taught her how to tuck her chin slightly when thinking, how to smile like she didn't mean it, how to nod during conversations without agreeing.

"You're not Adele anymore," she said. "You're Kiera Fallon. Nobody's charity case. You belong at the top, because you take your place there."

They tore her voice apart and rebuilt it.

They shredded every photo of her old life, erased digital traces, and rewrote her profile in layers.

Nyra even tweaked the voice ID on Adele's emergency contact number.

"Who am I if this doesn't work?" Adele asked once, staring at herself in the mirror.

Nyra shrugged. "Someone who got back up. That's already better than most."

They became inseparable. Working. Laughing. Eating noodles at 2 a.m. and dancing in the dark when the electricity cut off.

And slowly, Adele stopped caring when she heard her own name. Because she wasn't Adele anymore. She was something sharper. More dangerous. More alive.

She was Kiera Fallon.

And Kiera Fallon had a mission.

To get into Saerrowell.

To rise.

And to never, ever beg for a place again.