Louisa had her head bowed, a silent plea for the final bell to sever the day's suffocating attention. Each tick of the clock amplified her anxiety. Ellie's absence, summoned by the teacher, left her feeling exposed.
At the back of the room, a familiar, intense gaze bore into her – Jayden, an enigma wrapped in privilege, watching her with an unreadable intensity. Why his fascination with her predicament?
Then, the air in the classroom fractured. A voice, sharp as shattered glass and laced with imperious fury, sliced through the low hum of the lesson. "You. You snake. How dare you?"
Louisa's spine stiffened. That voice, dripping with entitled rage, was unmistakable. Slowly, with a dread that weighted her limbs, she lifted her head.
Framed in the doorway stood Cassia Blackwood, her perfect composure finally shattered, her dark eyes blazing. Beside her, Anya Sterling mirrored her disdain, her pretty features twisted into an ugly sneer.
"So," Cassia began, her voice deceptively low but carrying a tremor of fury, "you craved to make an impression so desperately at the Welcome Party that you resorted to theft. To wear my clothes. A rare piece, at that."
A gasp escaped Louisa's lips. The accusation hung in the air, thick and suffocating.
"Yes," Anya chimed in, her tone dripping with venom. "A dress that screamed 'not yours.'"
A wave of mortification washed over Louisa. Every eye in the classroom was fixed on her, a silent jury passing judgment. Disdain, pity, and outright hostility painted their faces.
Even Thea and Marcus, who entered at that moment, stopped short, their surprise evident.
"It… it was… just a dress I borrowed," Louisa stammered, the lie feeling flimsy and pathetic even to her own ears.
Cassia stalked closer, her gaze unwavering. "Borrowed?" she repeated, the word laced with disbelief. "A 'borrowed' vintage Louis Vuitton that I personally entrusted to the most exclusive laundromat in my district? A limited edition, one of a mere three in existence, gifted to me by someone… irreplaceable."
Her voice cracked with a raw emotion that hinted at a deeper connection to the dress. "Care to elaborate on this… 'borrowing,' Wren?"
The weight of Cassia's barely suppressed fury pressed down on Louisa, stealing her breath.
Across the room, Thea's gaze flickered towards Jayden. His usual detached demeanor was gone, his focus entirely on Louisa.
What was he thinking? Why wasn't he intervening? And what did Cassia's possessive tone truly reveal about her lingering feelings?
The air in the classroom hung thick with anticipation. Every student seemed to hold their breath, waiting for Louisa's response to Cassia's damning accusation. The weight of the room's judgment pressed down on her, making it hard to breathe.
Louisa's mind raced, a frantic whirlwind of fear and desperation. How could she explain? How could she possibly make them understand? The truth – her mother who works at Spotless Finish borrowed it without the owner's consent, to make her daughter look pretty– sounded so flimsy, so unbelievable against the backdrop of Cassia's fury and the dress's immense value.
Tears welled in her eyes, blurring the faces of her accusers. She opened her mouth to speak, but the words caught in her throat, choked by shame and panic.
Before a single word could escape her lips, Ellie surged back into the room, her face a mask of fierce protectiveness. She planted herself beside Louisa, a fiery shield against the gathered hostility.
"What in God's name is going on here?" Ellie's voice, sharp and unwavering, sliced through the tense silence. "Why are you all ganging up on her?"
Anya's gaze flicked over Ellie with disdain. "Stay out of this, Rose. This is between Cassia and Wren. Your friend here is a thief and a liar, parading around in what isn't hers."
"Thief?" Ellie scoffed, her red hair seeming to bristle with indignation. "You don't know the first thing—"
"Accusations like that require proof, Sterling," Thea interjected, her voice surprisingly firm. Marcus beside her looked genuinely taken aback.
A ripple of surprise went through the room; Thea Devereux, siding with the scholarship girl?
"Proof?" Cassia's laugh was brittle. "Thea, you yourself commented on the uncanny resemblance that day. You called the wearer a good 'copycat.' Well, the surprise is, it wasn't a copycat at all."
Her gaze, sharp as shards of glass, snapped back to Louisa. "Now, Wren. I suggest you make your explanation… believable."
Just then, a figure stirred at the back of the classroom. Jayden King Walton unfolded his long limbs, his hands casually thrust into the pockets of his impeccably tailored trousers. He moved with a quiet authority that drew every eye as he approached the tense tableau.
"There isn't any more explaining needed, Cassia," Jayden stated, his voice calm but carrying an undeniable weight. "Wren borrowed your dress, as she said. She's neither a thief nor a liar."
A collective gasp swept through the room. Cassia and Anya stood frozen, their expressions a mixture of shock and disbelief. Cassia's perfect facade crumbled, a raw hurt flickering in her eyes.
"You… you knew?" she whispered, the accusation laced with pain.
"Let it go, Cass," Jayden replied, his gaze softening imperceptibly as it flickered towards his former love. "It's just a dress… and frankly, the spectacle is over." He reached out, his hand closing gently around Louisa's. "She's coming with me."
Before Louisa could even register the shock of his touch, Jayden was leading her away, pulling her from the suffocating judgment of the classroom. Her mind reeled, trying to comprehend his sudden intervention.
At the back, Ashtray and Jason exchanged bewildered glances. "What the hell, King?" Ashtray muttered under his breath.
Then, Ashtray, ever the performer, clapped his hands loudly, breaking the stunned silence. "Alright, people! Show's over! Nothing more to see here. Class dismissed!"
The room remained in stunned silence for a beat longer, the implications of Jayden's unprecedented action – openly siding with the scholarship girl against Cassia Blackwood – hanging heavy in the air.
The carefully constructed social hierarchy of Charterhouse had just experienced a significant tremor.