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The final bell had rung almost an hour ago, but Adelaide stayed behind. She needed the air—the kind that didn't reek of designer perfume and curated gossip.
The rooftop greenhouse was technically off-limits to students, but everyone knew Adelaide had the kind of name that made rules bend. So there she sat, legs crossed on a wicker bench between rows of potted hydrangeas, her laptop in her lap and a look on her face that screamed do not approach.
But someone did.
Marjorie Blake.
Daughter of a legacy donor. A girl with an appetite for other people's pain and an Instagram feed full of performative allyship and backhanded compliments.
"I read the Vanity Fair piece," Marjorie said, appearing like a specter in head-to-toe linen. "Very bold of you. For someone who used to be very... conservative with your attention."
Adelaide didn't answer.
Marjorie stepped closer, fake smile tight. "I mean, everyone thought you'd end up with a Senator's son. Not Monet De Haan. It's giving... PR. Or maybe rebellion. Which is cute, in a limited edition kind of way."
Still, Adelaide said nothing.
So Marjorie leaned in. "Just don't get too comfortable. Because when the novelty wears off, she'll go back to girls who don't need contracts to kiss her."
A sudden shadow fell across the row of succulents.
"Say that again," Monet said from the entrance.
Her voice was calm, but it sliced like a blade.
Marjorie blinked. "Excuse me?"
"I said," Monet repeated, walking forward with lethal grace, "say that again. To my face this time."
"Monet," Adelaide murmured, standing quickly. "It's not worth it."
"Yes it is," Monet said, not taking her eyes off Marjorie. "Because I'm sick of these backroom comments. You think Addie needs me to make her interesting? You've clearly never had a real conversation with her."
Marjorie's mouth opened, but Monet kept going.
"You're intimidated. That's why you keep showing up like a roach every time she starts to glow. Because deep down, you know you couldn't hold her attention for two seconds without asking how it made you look."
Silence.
Just the distant hum of traffic and the beat of Adelaide's heart pounding in her ears.
Marjorie scoffed and turned sharply, heels clacking as she left with her tail between her legs.
The door clicked shut behind her.
Adelaide stared at Monet, stunned. "You didn't have to do that."
Monet turned to face her, something raw flickering behind her usual cool.
