Page 89 of The Bleak Beginning

“Humor me,” Maxwell interrupts, her voice steely.

With visible reluctance, Sutton pulls out of her brother’s hold and slowly starts to examine the dress. Maxwell's eyes are fixed on Sutton, who is studying the garment with great attention. Her fingers move along the seams and material, carefully examiningevery detail. “It looks fine to me,” she confirms after a few minutes.

“Interesting,” Chancellor Maxwell murmurs, more to herself than anyone else. “In that case, it appears there is no need to continue with this questioning.”

Sutton’s mouth visibly hangs open, before she snaps it closed. “So that’s it?”

“That’s it,” she confirms. “Miss Oliveri, are you not aware I am the Chancellor of this school? The youngest in Altair’s history, in fact, when I took my seat.”

“Yes, I know that,” she confirms, her eyes darting around the room like a cornered animal.

Maxwell straightens out her jacket before turning back to her. “And do you not think I have more pressing matters to deal with than a stolen dress or card, when your family has more money than they know what to do with?” Her voice is calm but firm.

Sutton’s face flushes a deep crimson, her composure cracking. “But…but she stole from me!” she sputters, gesturing wildly in my direction.

Chancellor Maxwell raises an eyebrow, her gaze piercing. “Did she now? Because from where I’m standing, this entire charade reeks of something far more sinister than petty theft.”

The room falls quiet, the tension palpable. I can hardly breathe, my mind racing to catch up with this sudden shift.

“Chancellor, I don’t understand,” Sylvester interjects, his arm protectively going back around his sister. “Are you accusing Sutton of something?”

Maxwell’s lips curl into a small, knowing smile, her patience clearly wearing thin. “I’m not accusing anyone of anything. But I do find it curious, Mr. Oliveri, that you and the other Legacies seem to have misjudged how long I have overseen this university.”

Sutton’s face pales, her eyes widening. She opens her mouth to speak, but no words come out.

Chancellor Maxwell continues, her voice steady and controlled. “You see, as I assume you are all aware, I have dedicated my last thirty years as Chancellor here at Altair University. Long enough to have seen patterns emerge, to understand the intricate social dynamics at play in this school. And long enough to recognize when aLegacyis trying to manipulate the system.”

Bishop’s face contorts into a tight ball of fury, every muscle straining to contain his anger.

His stare bores into mine, radiating a searing hatred that consumes every fiber of his being. In this moment, I’m nothing but a target for his venomous disdain. But I refuse to cower before him. Instead, I meet his gaze with unflinching bravery, my own eyes ablaze with defiance and determination.

My attention is abruptly pulled away from Bishop’s, severing the link in our silent war when Chancellor Maxwell turns to face me, her features relaxing a little. “Miss Prescott, I apologize for the stress this situation may have caused you. Rest assured, this will have no effect on your record or impact your eligibility for the games.”

I nod, still too stunned to speak as Chancellor Maxwell takes this as her cue and dismisses herself. The relief flooding through me is almost dizzying.

Bishop takes a menacing step forward. “You may have the Chancellor under your little thumb, but the rest of us see what you really are,” he growls. “A reject and a fraud. A nobody trying to play in a world you don’t belong in.”

I stand my ground. “I belong here just as much as any of you,” I say, surprising myself with the conviction in my words.

“That so?” Bishop asks, tone deadly calm.

“That’s right,” I say, my voice growing stronger with each word. “And I’m not going anywhere.”

The gravity of the situation hangs heavy in the air, like a rubber band stretched to its breaking point. I can feel the weight of their combined stares, each Legacy sizing me up, reassessing the threat I pose.

Camden lets out a mirthless laugh. “You have no idea what you’re up against,” he sneers. “This isn’t some game you can win by batting your eyelashes at the Chancellor.”

“I’m not trying to win anything,” I retort, my frustration finally bubbling over. “I don’t want to play anything. Not this. Not your stupid games. None of it!”

“But you are playing,” Camden says, his voice smooth as silk but laced with venom. “The moment you stepped foot in Altair, you became a part of this game. Whether you like it or not.”

“I didn’t ask for any of this,” I say, my voice wavering slightly.

“None of us did,” Sutton snaps.

“Come on, let’s just go,” Sylvester says, nudging his sister towards the door.

The Legacies exchange glances, a silent communication passing between them that I can’t decipher. Then, one by one, they begin to file out of my room. The only one who remains is my shadow, too content in his designated spot in my personal space.

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