In the glittering world of Westbridge, where mansions line the streets and family legacies are worth their weight in gold, five childhood best friends-Lisa, Theo, Gabe, Gen, and Sam-have grown up in the shadow of privilege, bound by a friendship as...
The morning sunlight streamed gently through the windows of Haley's mansion, casting a soft, golden light across the wooden floors. The stillness of the house was a stark contrast to the chaos of the night before—laughter, music, and too much alcohol. Now, everything felt quiet and still, as if the house itself was recovering from the aftermath of Bennett's party.
Lisa blinked awake, the unfamiliar surroundings momentarily disorienting her until she remembered: they'd all ended up at Haley's after the party. Gabe had stuck with her through the worst of it, holding her hair back when the nausea hit hard and fast. Even now, the remnants of that queasy feeling clung to her, but at least her head had cleared enough to move without wanting to die.
She pushed herself out of bed, running her fingers through her tangled hair as she padded toward the door. The house was quiet—everyone was likely still asleep, except for a few early risers. The smell of coffee wafted through the air, and Lisa followed it, hoping it would help clear the last of the fog from her head.
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
In the kitchen, Sam sat at the breakfast table, already holding a mug of coffee. His camera rested next to him, as usual, but Lisa noticed his fingers fidgeting with something small and metallic—though she couldn't quite make out what it was.
"Morning," she mumbled, heading straight for the coffee pot. She grabbed a mug and poured herself a cup, savoring the warmth as it spread through her hands.
Sam glanced up at her, his face lighting up with a quick smile as he slipped whatever was in his hand into his pocket. "Morning, Lisa. How's the queen of the night feeling?"
Lisa groaned, sliding into the chair across from him. "Like I might need you to delete some evidence of my shame. And by 'might,' I mean definitely."
Sam's grin widened. "Depends. Some of those shots might be worth keeping for posterity."
She narrowed her eyes at him playfully. "I will bribe you."
"Noted." Sam's eyes flickered briefly to his camera. "You didn't see me much after we got there, did you?"
Lisa frowned, thinking back to the night before. "No, actually. You kinda disappeared. Figured you were busy doing your whole photographer-artist thing."
Sam shrugged casually, taking another sip of his coffee. "Yeah, I wandered off. Got some air, took a few pictures. You know me."
Before Lisa could say anything more, Gabe strolled into the kitchen, looking far too awake for someone who'd played the role of reluctant nurse the night before. He leaned against the doorframe, smirking in that infuriatingly casual way of his.
"Look who's alive," Gabe said, pouring himself a mug of coffee. "I wasn't sure you'd make it through the night. Thought I might have to give a eulogy."
Lisa raised an eyebrow. "And what would you say at my funeral, exactly? 'Here lies Lisa St. Clair, too stubborn to admit when she's had too much to drink.'"
