The mirror never lied.
I stood in front of it, turning slowly, inspecting every inch like a general before war.
Navy pleated skirt—short enough to flirt with the dress code but never cross it. Crisp white oxford shirt, three buttons undone, silk tie hanging loose like I owned the rules instead of obeying them. Sheer black tights with a faint diamond shimmer. Blood-red Louboutin ankle boots that clicked with every step I took.
My diamond tennis bracelet caught the light. Matching studs in my ears. Hair falling in perfect waves.
Flawless.
That was the game. Look like you followed every rule… while reminding everyone you were above them.
I smirked at my reflection.
Perfect.
The grand staircase of the Voss estate spiraled down like something out of a dream. My heels echoed against marble as I descended.
The dining hall was silent and enormous. Crystal chandeliers hung overhead, morning light pouring through floor-to-ceiling windows onto gardens that cost more than most people's houses.
Mrs. Dawn stood by the sideboard, posture perfect, hands folded.
My breakfast waited exactly as I liked it—Greek yogurt drizzled with honey, fresh berries, and a cup of steaming green tea.
"Your schedule has been sent to your phone, Miss Seraphina," she said softly. "And… I wanted to wish you luck on your first day of senior year. Your mother would have been so proud of the young woman you've become."
My fingers paused above the teacup.
The word *mother* sliced through the air like a blade.
No one said that name in this house. Not since the day I was born and she died.
I set the cup down without drinking.
"Mrs. Dawn," I said, voice ice-cold, "my mother is dead. Mentioning her changes nothing. And your sentimental little comments are not part of your job description. You're staff. Remember that."
The older woman's face tightened, pain flashing in her eyes for half a second before she masked it.
I felt a tiny sting in my chest.
I crushed it instantly.
Without another word, I turned and walked out, leaving the untouched breakfast behind.
Softness was a weakness I couldn't afford.
Not today.
Not ever.
The Aston Martin roared to life the moment I slid behind the wheel. I revved the engine harder than necessary and sped out of the estate, the gates opening smoothly for me like everything else in my life.
By the time I reached Westfield Academy, the senior parking lot was already filled with luxury cars—Range Rovers, sleek Mercedes, and the occasional Tesla pretending to be humble.
I parked in my usual spot, right at the front.
Tess's white Range Rover pulled up beside mine seconds later.
She looked like absolute hell.
Huge sunglasses, messy bun, and skin so pale her makeup was doing overtime. She stepped out and immediately clutched her head.
"Kill me," she groaned, voice raspy. "Just run me over right here. I won't even sue."
I slung my Hermès bag over my shoulder and raised an eyebrow. "Rough night?"
"Understatement of the century. I woke up with my dress on backwards and one heel missing. Please tell me I didn't do anything stupid with Liam."
I started walking toward the main building. "You didn't do anything with Liam."
Tess let out a relieved breath. "Oh, thank God—"
"You did it with Ethan."
She froze mid-step, then let out a horrified squeak. "You're joking."
"Wish I was. It's already trending on the academy's private Instagram. Sixty-three posts and counting. Very creative angles."
Tess slapped a hand over her mouth. "I'm actually going to die. I hate myself."
"You'll survive," I said dryly. "You always do."
Students scattered across the lot went quiet the moment we appeared. Whispers rippled through the air like electricity. Heads turned. Eyes followed.
I didn't glance at any of them.
Let them stare. Let them wish.
Tess leaned closer, muttering, "They're doing it again. The whole 'Seraphina Voss is walking' thing."
"They always do," I replied, voice low and bored. "Pathetic, isn't it? One look from me and their entire day is made."
Tess smirked despite her hangover. "You should wave. Do a little charity work."
I laughed—soft, controlled, practiced.
Then I did exactly that.
A single, slow wave. Regal. Dismissive. I see you. You're nothing.
A group of freshmen actually gasped. One girl clutched her friend's arm like she'd just witnessed a celebrity sighting.
We crossed the manicured lawn. Students parted for us automatically, like the sea before royalty.
The September sun warmed my skin. The air smelled like fresh-cut grass and new beginnings.
Senior year.
My final year to reign.
Strong arms suddenly wrapped around me from behind, pulling me against a hard chest. I tensed for half a second—until the familiar scent of Tom Ford Noir hit me.
Roman.
"There's my queen," he murmured against my ear, voice deep and possessive. His lips brushed the side of my neck, sending a deliberate shiver down my spine.
I turned in his arms and looked up at him with the exact smile he loved—cool, confident, just a little dangerous.
"Good morning, Roman."
He kissed me without hesitation. Slow. Deep. Claiming. His hand gripped my waist like he was marking territory in front of the entire school.
Phones clicked around us. Whispers exploded.
When he finally pulled back, his dark eyes burned into mine. "You look dangerous today. I like it."
Being watched always made me feel alive. Like the world sharpened into focus only when every eye was on me.
He offered his arm. "Shall we?"
I wrinkled my nose. "Assembly is going to be torture. Same boring speeches. We should just skip."
"Can't," he said, already steering me toward the grand entrance, arm snug around my waist. "Word is the top student has to give a speech this year. That's you, baby."
I sighed dramatically but let him lead. "Fine. But you owe me for sitting through that nonsense."
Roman smirked, leaning down to kiss my temple. "I always pay my debts."
Behind us, Tess made loud gagging noises. "Get a room, you two. Some of us are still recovering from last night."
Roman chuckled. "Jealous, Tess?"
"Of watching you swallow Roman's face every morning? Hard pass."
I laughed again, the sound light and effortless.
We climbed the wide stone steps together, the entire student body watching.
This was my kingdom.
For one last year, Westfield Academy belonged to me.
And I intended to make it unforgettable.