Aurora Rae Winters' POV
They said I was the Red Flag Girl.
And maybe I was.
But they hadn't met her yet.
I walked through the doors of Crownwood Excellence Academy, a cathedral built for privilege. Even its name bled entitlement — old money, old blood, old power. The marble beneath my shoes whispered with every step I took, and behind me, the whispers of others filled the air like a thick, slow-moving fog.
"That's her… the Winters' heiress."
"No one's seen her face before. Creepy, right?"
"I heard she got expelled for violence."
"Not expelled. Someone died at her last school, they just hushed it up."
"Her mom's the richest woman in the country — owns half the capital, I swear."
"They say she's heartless. Empty. Like a porcelain doll with no soul."
I heard it all. Every twisted syllable.
And I smiled.
Because no one tells the truth better than a rumor — it's just wrapped in something easier to swallow.
They didn't know what I looked like. They didn't know what I could do.
But they would.
I adjusted my cat-eye glasses, the only thing separating the real me from the world. No one touched them. No one dared. They were sleek, dark, sharp at the corners — like a blade across the face of a lie. These glasses were more than just lenses. They were my silence. My secret. My rage — caged behind glass.
I walked down the hallway, head held high, ignoring the stares, the fake coughs, the sideways glances. I wasn't here to make friends. I wasn't here to be liked.
I was here to finish what they started.
As I neared my assigned classroom, I slowed. The hallway was buzzing again — but not about me this time.
"Valentina Rose is here already? God help us all."
"She's unreal. That hair, those eyes. She's like if danger wore Chanel."
"I saw her make a senior cry last year. A senior. She doesn't even try — it just happens."
"My sister says she got someone expelled for touching her bag without permission."
"I heard she got into some elite scholarship program — not because she needed it. Just so no one else could have it."
I didn't look back. But I listened.
Valentina Rose.
A name like perfume and poison.
But I didn't know her face.
Not yet.
When I walked into the classroom, every eye turned to me — but not for long. They didn't recognize me. That was the fun part. The stories of my arrival had already taken on a life of their own. I was the whispered legend sitting at the back of the room.
I chose the seat beside the window, far corner. Strategic. Unbothered. Alone. I cracked open a book and pretended the room didn't exist.
And then —
Click. Click. Click.
The sound of heels against tile, rhythmic and arrogant. Every tap declared ownership.
I didn't even raise my eyes until I heard the chair beside mine scrape backward.
The scent hit first — vanilla and venom.
Then the voice: silken, smug. "You're in my seat."
I finally turned. Slowly.
And there she was.
Blonde. Flawless.
A face like sin wrapped in silk.
Ice-blue eyes, lined with cruelty. Lips like petals soaked in arsenic. Her uniform was perfectly fitted, skirt tailored just enough to break rules without getting caught. Her hair cascaded over one shoulder, deliberate and dangerous.
Queen Bee didn't begin to cover it.
This was Valentina Rose.
"And you are?" I asked, not moving.
She tilted her head, mocking. "Wow. You must be new. Or stupid."
The class chuckled. A few gasped. She thrived in it.
"I'm Valentina," she said. "The one who decides who matters and who doesn't."
"Charmed." I turned back to my book.
Wrong move.
She reached forward. Her fingers snatched my glasses off my face with a flick, careless and cruel.
A cold silence fell.
My world blurred — not from vision, but from heat. I stood slowly, my hands curling at my sides.
"Put them back." My voice was razor-flat.
She held the glasses up like a trophy. "These? Ugly little things. You really think they hide how stiff you look?"
I stepped closer. "Put them down. Or I'll make you regret touching what isn't yours."
Her lips curled. "What, you gonna cry? Break another school record? Or a neck?"
And then she did it.
She bent them — just slightly — but enough.
The softest snap. A sound like bones cracking in the cold.
That sound didn't just echo in my ears. It detonated in my skull.
I didn't shout. I didn't scream.
I smiled.
And I grabbed her wrist.
The snap of bone was not soft.
It was brutal. Instant.
Her eyes widened, mouth dropping open in a silent scream before she yelped, "What the fuck?!"
Gasps flew around us.
"Are you insane, you fucking psycho bitch?!"
I didn't let go until her legs buckled. Her wrist twisted unnaturally.
She dropped my glasses.
I caught them mid-air.
Cracked, yes. But still mine. Still sacred.
"Let that be a lesson," I said, fixing them slowly onto my face, cracked lens and all. "Some things aren't replaceable."
"You broke me," Valentina hissed, cradling her wrist. "You freak!"
I stepped forward, voice like winter air.
"When individuals lack the cognitive depth to articulate their grievances with intelligence, they often resort to profanity. So tell me, Valentina — how does it feel to be that ordinary?"
She looked like she wanted to spit on me.
But then—
"Aurora Rae Winters."
The teacher's voice sliced through the tension like steel.
I turned. "Yes?"
He blinked. "Would you like to… introduce yourself to the class?"
A pause. A smirk.
"Of course."
I stepped forward, the silence wrapped around me like silk.
"My name is Aurora Rae Winters. I transferred from Halcyon Prep. Because of violence. Someone died."
A single beat passed.
Then two.
No one spoke. Not even Valentina.
Not even the teacher.
They didn't know if I meant it.
That's the fun part.
Because maybe I did.