When secrets wore silk, they no longer felt like whispers.
They became promises stitched in blood.
Veronica stood before the sealed double doors of the old student council archives—gold handles dulled with time, the wood paneled with faded engravings. It was barely past six a.m. The school grounds were still cloaked in early fog, the halls silent save for the muffled hum of security systems preparing for the day.
Lucas crouched beside the keycode panel, his fingers flying over the circuits with practiced ease.
"Security's weaker than I expected," he murmured.
"Because they didn't expect anyone to come back here." Veronica's voice was soft, yet laced with certainty. "This isn't a vault anymore. It's a grave."
With a faint click, the panel lit green.
Lucas stood and pushed open the doors.
The scent of old paper, lacquered wood, and long-forgotten dust greeted them like a sigh.
Inside, sunlight spilled in golden slivers through stained glass windows, dancing over rows of locked cabinets, rusted filing drawers, and a massive bulletin board covered in faded documents.
In the center of the far wall, a mural stretched wide—an abstract painting of inked threads winding into a circular knot, half obscured by decay.
The same symbol Alexis had left behind.
Veronica's eyes narrowed.
"I want every drawer searched. Especially the ones marked from six years ago," she said.
Lucas nodded. "And the society?"
"We find out if it still exists—or if its roots just changed masks."
—
Twenty Minutes Later
Veronica's gloved hands flipped through dozens of sealed folders, most labeled in the same looping cursive: S.T., the same initials from the letter in the conservatory.
"S.T."—the puppeteer, or at least one of them.
She pulled out a navy blue folder marked "Alumni Liaison Program 19-A."
Inside: lists of donors, meeting transcripts, and something else—coded messages. Tucked beneath the minutes were letters sealed in gold-threaded envelopes.
Lucas read one over her shoulder.
To all Society Heads: The Silk Pen shall reconvene under the pretext of the Alumni Gala Committee. As per tradition, our next candidate shall be evaluated based on the Legacy Heir System. Ensure the top nominee remains unaware until their final vetting.
Veronica's jaw tightened.
Legacy Heir System?
She flipped through the transcript. And there, circled in red ink, was a name.
Amy Lin.
Veronica's breath stilled.
"She was chosen."
Lucas's voice was grim. "Chosen for what?"
Veronica stared at the lines beneath Amy's name:
Status: Untested. Innocent. Clean family record. Ideal face. High public favor. Easily directed.
Veronica felt something deep inside her twist.
They had marked Amy.
Like a product.
Like a vessel.
No wonder she died right before the Gala.
"This wasn't a coincidence," she whispered. "Amy wasn't just a casualty. She was a target."
"And you?" Lucas asked, watching her closely. "You took her place."
"No." Her voice sharpened. "I stole it back."
—
Later That Day – Lin Family Manor, Hidden Library
Veronica sat with her eldest brother, Adrian Lin, in the private Lin library. Sunlight pooled around them through the skylight above, casting light on old leather-bound books and tomes from their ancestors.
She handed Adrian the red-threaded envelope and the original sealed letter from Alexis.
Adrian scanned them with slow, calculated precision. Then he met her gaze.
"So. The Silk Pen lives."
"You know it?" she asked carefully.
He gave a quiet exhale. "Heard whispers. During my business years abroad, some old families referred to it with caution. A secret society disguised in art, politics, and charity. Always favoring heirs they could shape."
"Why would they choose Amy?"
"Because she fit the mold. Obedient. High profile. Photogenic. The ideal candidate for public manipulation."
"But she wasn't what they expected," Veronica said, more to herself than him.
"No," Adrian agreed. "And then you arrived. You were everything they feared: fire where they planted silk."
Veronica looked at the map spread before them.
Three threads had now become four.
And all pointed toward the same name: Serena Tang.
S.T.
Vice Chair of the Alumni Board. Member of the city's most elite circles. Supposedly retired from school affairs five years ago.
Supposedly.
Adrian handed her a dossier.
Serena Tang.
Board member. Patron of the conservatory. Founding member of the Legacy Heir Initiative. Publicly revered.
Privately feared.
"Someone like her doesn't disappear," Adrian murmured. "She reinvents."
Veronica stared at Serena's photo.
Elegant. Silver hair tied back. Eyes sharp like knives beneath the sheen of grace.
"She chose Amy," Veronica said, voice like steel. "And buried Alexis."
"And now she might know you're not the original Amy," Adrian warned. "That makes you her threat."
Veronica folded the dossier. "Then let's become her problem."
—
That Evening – Elite High Auditorium, Gala Committee Meeting
Veronica walked into the room like a queen on a warpath. Hair sleek, lips tinted crimson, and eyes that held storms behind their lashes.
Ten students sat around the grand oval table, including Victoria Lei—who looked like she'd swallowed a lemon at Veronica's arrival.
And seated at the head?
Serena Tang.
Flawless.
Smiling.
Predator in pearls.
"Miss Lin," Serena greeted smoothly. "It's a pleasure to finally meet you properly. I've heard... intriguing things."
Veronica smiled back—sweet, sharp. "All true, I'm sure."
Serena's eyes flickered with something unreadable.
Lucas stood against the back wall, unreadable as always, though his gaze never strayed from Serena for long.
The meeting began.
Serena outlined the Gala's theme, requested volunteer roles, and spoke in riddles draped as elegance.
Every word, a test.
Every gaze, a trap.
Then Serena's eyes settled on Veronica. "Miss Lin, I would like you to lead the Legacy Tribute section. Given your family's status and... recent rise, you're the perfect choice."
Veronica met her gaze. "You mean I fit the mold."
Silence.
A few students shifted uncomfortably.
But Serena's smile never faltered. "Exactly."
Veronica leaned back. "Then I accept. But I won't just lead it. I'll rewrite it."
Serena blinked once. "How ambitious."
"I find silk threads fray easily," Veronica said, her voice laced with honey and glass. "But ink? Ink stains. I prefer permanence."
A pause.
Then Serena's laugh, delicate and rehearsed.
"Let's see if you can handle it, then."
Veronica smiled.
Oh, I'll do more than handle it.
I'll burn it down.