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"Some girls bring home a boyfriend. Some bring home a business plan. Adelaide Kingsley brought home Monet De Haan. And this time, they were ready."xoxo. gossip girl
The dining room glowed like something out of a lifestyle magazine spread. Gilded candelabras flickered over porcelain plates and monogrammed napkins. Crystal clinked softly as Camille De Haan raised her glass, her signature cabernet barely touched.
Across the table, Adelaide sat perfectly poised, Monet at her side.
The girls had practiced this.
Not the words—but the weight of it. The way they'd sit close enough to touch. The subtle glances. The tiny laugh Monet gave when Adelaide muttered something under her breath that no one else could hear.
This time, it wasn't awkward.
This time, they worked.
"So," Camille began, swirling her wine, "how's school? I saw the Vanity Fair piece trended for almost forty-eight hours."
"A new record," Adelaide's mother beamed. "We've never had that kind of coverage. It was... tasteful, I thought."
Adelaide blinked. Tasteful.
She bit the inside of her cheek and smiled anyway.
Her father cleared his throat, cutting into his roast duck. "Now that you're finally putting the Kingsley name to good use, Adelaide, we should talk about next summer. Perhaps something closer to our philanthropic board's annual gala. We could use fresh optics."
Adelaide blinked, lips parting.
"I actually want to do something different," she said.
Everyone paused.
"I've been talking to the UN liaison who works on famine relief in the Horn of Africa. There's a program for student field volunteers—low-risk, education-based. Yemen. Sudan. I want to apply."
Her mother blinked like she'd misheard. "Excuse me?"
"It's not about optics," Adelaide said, shoulders tense. "It's about helping kids who are starving and orphaned because the world decided they weren't important enough to care about."
"Adelaide," her father warned. "This isn't a school fundraiser. You're not equipped for—"
"She's more equipped than most diplomats," Monet cut in smoothly, a knife in velvet.
All eyes turned to her.
"She actually cares," Monet added. "Not just about how it looks—but how it feels. And if she wants to go, I'll go with her."
Camille raised a brow, impressed and intrigued. "Really?"
Monet nodded without hesitation. "It's about time we stopped sipping rosé while people starve."
