Page 88 of The Bleak Beginning

The silence that follows is deafening. I can feel the weight of everyone’s stares, their judgment pressing down on me like a physical force. Bishop’s smirk grows wider, more triumphant, with each passing second, his handsome features, remain cruel and self-centered as always.

“Well then,” Chancellor Maxwell says, breaking the tension. “I should like to go through your things then,” she says, before helping herself to my closet.

As the Chancellor rummages through my belongings, Sutton catches my eye. There’s a cruel glint in her gaze that I’ve never seen before, and it sends a sudden frost through my veins. How could I have been so wrong about her?

“Ah,” Chancellor Maxwell’s voice cuts through the stiff silence. “What do we have here?”

My stomach drops as she emerges from the closet holding up a garment bag. I swallow, recognizing it—the dress Sutton bought for me. Or at least, the dress I thought she’d bought for me.

Chancellor Maxwell unzips the bag, revealing the shimmering white and black ombre fabric within. “This appears to be the dress in question,” she says, her tone neutral but her eyes sharp.

Sutton gasps theatrically. “That’s my dress! She must have taken it when she snagged my card.”

I feel the blood drain from my face as I stare at the dress, my mind reeling. How could this be happening? I know I didn’t steal it, but it’s in my closet, damning evidence against me.

“I…I didn’t…” I stammer, but the words die in my throat.

Chancellor Maxwell’s gaze is piercing as she looks at me, her expression a mixture of disappointment and something else I can’t quite place. Pity, perhaps?

“Miss Prescott, this is a very serious accusation,” she says, her voice grave. “Do you have an explanation for how this dress came to be in your possession?”

I open my mouth, but no sound comes out. How can I explain something I don’t understand myself? The truth sounds like a lie, even in my own head.

“I think it’s pretty clear what happened here,” Bishop chimes in, his voice dripping with false concern. “Poor Sutton’s been taken advantage of.”

Sutton nods, pretending to wipe away tears that didn’t exist. “I just can’t believe she would do this to me,” she sniffs, leaning into Sylvester’s comforting arm.

I feel my world shifting, spinning out of control. The pieces fall into place, but they form a picture I can’t accept. Sutton and Sylvester…siblings? The realization hits me like a punch to the gut. How could I have been so blind?

The reality of my situation sinks in as I take in each of the Legacies. Allfourof them. This was a setup, a carefully orchestrated trap, and I just allowed myself to walk right into it without so much as a question.

“Chancellor,” I manage to croak out, “I swear to you, I didn’t steal anything. Sutton gave me that dress as a gift. She told me—”

“Oh please,” Sutton interrupts, her voice dripping with disdain. “As if I’d ever give a Prescott something so expensive.”

“This isn’t… It can’t…”

But Chancellor Maxwell is already shaking her head in my direction. “I’m afraid the evidence is quite damning. Not only have you been caught with stolen property, but I’ve also been informed there is proof of your transaction history as well.”

Sutton nods her head in agreement. “Sly, show them what you've got.” She turns to her brother and encourages him to continue. Sylvester reaches into his pocket and retrieves a few receipts, his face showing no emotion as he hands them over to Maxwell.

I force air out of my lungs as she scrutinizes the slips of paper, her brows furrowing in concentration. I want to scream, to grab those receipts and tear them to shreds, but I’m stuck in place, watching this plan unravel before my eyes.

“These appear to be receipts from several locations,” Maxwell says slowly, “all purchased with Miss Oliveri’s credit card.” She looks up at me, her eyes calculating. “And they’re all signed with your name, Miss Prescott.”

The room spins. This can’t be happening. I feel like I’m trapped in some twisted nightmare, but the faces around me are all too real, too cruel.

“I didn’t… I would never…” I try to speak, but my words are drowned out by Sutton’s dramatic sobs.

“I trusted you,” she wails, burying her face in Sylvester’s arm.

Chancellor Maxwell does something that surprises me then. “Miss Oliveri, could you kindly find a way to cease the theatrics for long enough to examine your dress? Your parents may indulge your dramatics, but I prefer facts over flair.”

Sutton’s sobs abruptly cease as she straightens up, her face a mask of confusion. “Examine my dress? Whatever for, Chancellor?”

“Let’s have a look, shall we?” Her tone is crisp, brooking no argument.

Sutton hesitates, her eyes darting between the Chancellor and me. A flicker of panic settles in her expression before she smooths it away with a practiced smile. “Of course, Chancellor. But I don’t see how this is relevant to—”

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