HIS FAVORITE SIN!

Hellfire High

Anna

My breath caught.

I wasn’t supposed to. But it just—happened.

The snicker escaped before my brain could slam the emergency brakes.

And now, frozen in the doorway of the Headmistress’s office, all I could do was pray time reversed. Or swallowed me whole.

God. Please. Let this be a dream.

Because standing in front of the entire student council — including him — was the last thing I expected after being summoned. I had knocked, stepped inside like the “favorite student” I supposedly was, and then laughed. Out loud.

In front of Rowan Rici.

My lungs quit working. My hands stiffened at my sides. I could feel his stare like a sniper’s laser on my skin. Not a blink. Not a flinch. Just—judgment.

Of course I’d walked in on a council meeting. Of course he was here. Of course I’d made a sound like an i***t hyena entering the lion’s den.

God really said, “Nope,” today.

Maybe this was it. Maybe they found out. Maybe Headmistress Naidoo called me in to reveal that I was the author of Midnight Siren, the anonymously published book making waves. My book. My escape. My secret.

I could already picture it — dramatic gasp, immediate expulsion, scholarships gone, future dead.

And Rowan? He’d smile. Or maybe not. He never smiled. Too apathetic for that. He’d just raise one perfect brow like he’d always known I was a disgrace to the school crest.

He hated me. Not even lowkey hated me. Full-throttle, fuel-in-the-fire, couldn’t-be-bothered-to-hide-it despised me.

Well… he didn’t always.

“Are you going to just stand there?” Rowan’s voice cut through the tension, low and deliberate. “Do you need a special invitation to come in?”

Velvet over a blade — that’s how he sounded. Smooth, rich, but sharp enough to nick an artery.

And I didn’t even have to look up to know it was him. I hadn’t made eye contact with anyone since I walked in. I couldn’t. The clean, dark brown carpet had been my only lifeline. But Rowan’s monotone — that unshakable, emotionless drawl — it was unmistakable.

He spoke like the world was on mute except for him.

The room stilled.

Even Headmistress Naidoo, who probably hadn’t heard me knock, turned her attention away from the argument she’d been refereeing.

Because Rowan didn’t speak unless he meant it. His silence was a throne, and every word he spoke? A decree.

I was nothing in this room. He was king.

“Ah, Ms. Lindsey. You’re here,” Headmistress Naidoo finally said. “Come in. Have a seat.”

That snapped my legs into motion, zombie-like, as if someone had hit “play” on my remote.

I mumbled a quick “thanks” and immediately aimed for the farthest chair from the student council. But of course, fate hates me.

“Annie! Come sit here.” Danielle’s voice rang out, too sweet, too bright.

I paused. Hoodie up. Smile on.

“Right,” I muttered, dragging my feet past the council like I wasn’t walking the plank. My gaze flicked upward once, just enough to catch Rowan’s unreadable face. His glare was ice beneath glass.

I nearly tripped over nothing, but his silence grounded me more than anything else could. I slid into the seat beside Danielle, still unsure whether this was kindness or a trap with lace.

My phone vibrated just as my butt hit the chair.

Group Chat: Hellfire High

What is SHE doing here?

Who let her sit next to Dani after what she’s done?

If I were dani, I’d move.

She’ll probably steal rowan like her aunt stole dani’s dad.

Lol rowan would never. He hates her.

They knew I was in this group. That was the point.

“Ms. Lindsey?” Headmistress Naidoo’s voice cut through again.

I flinched and dropped my phone. “Y-yes?”

“I asked you a question.”

“Right… sorry. What was it again?” Smooth, Anna. So smooth.

“Your thoughts. On the story. I believe your editor-in-chief briefed you?”

Nope. She didn’t. But I needed to lie. Fast.

“Ah, yes. That story.” I began.

“Excuse me, Headmistress,” Ms. Lesley interjected, her tone sharp. “Why was she invited? She’s not part of the council. She’s barely a participant in school life.”

Wow.

“She’s here because she has a brain,” came another voice — Madame Quinton, the only adult in this school who didn’t treat me like gum on the back of a Louboutin. “Unlike some who care more about donor money than student merit.”

“Ms. Quinton!”

“Madame,” she corrected, not missing a beat.

“Enough.” Headmistress Naidoo snapped. “This is not the place for petty squabbles. Ms. Lindsey, please continue.”

I forced my tongue to move.

“Yes, of course. I—uh—I didn’t read the whole—”

Mistake. Stupid.

“If you didn’t read it, why are you here?” Rowan cut in.

Twice. He’d spoken twice in one meeting. The world must be ending.

“I…” My cheeks flamed. Why did I say that? He was going to skin me alive in front of the Headmistress.

“Rowie,” Danielle whispered under her breath. I caught it. So did he. She squeezed my hand, soft and supportive. Or fake. I still couldn’t tell.

“I read the synopsis,” I said quickly. “I was only informed a few minutes ago—”

“And whose fault is that?” Rowan said coolly. “Are we supposed to believe a scholarship student at a prestigious school can’t speed-read a few chapters? Should we reconsider where our funding goes?”

Three times. He was on a roll now. Each word felt like glass in my throat.

The snickers around the room were quieter this time — but sharper, slicing.

“No,” I said, my hands trembling. “It’s my fault. I was incompetent and unworthy.”

“At least you know.” Someone muttered.

I clenched my fists. I wasn’t here to cry. I wasn’t here to defend myself. I was here to kill the play adaptation of my book — the one no one knew I’d written — before it exposed everything.

I closed my eyes. Breathed.

“I believe, from the synopsis and title alone, this book is inappropriate to stage in front of parents or sponsors. It could damage the school’s reputation. We are the face of this institution.”

The room was silent.

I didn’t need to look. I felt Rowan’s stare.

And I knew — he was pissed.

Not at the book.

At me.

Was he a fan of it?

Nah. No way. Not Rowan. That’d be the kind of cruel, cosmic joke that ended with me six feet under and him holding the shovel… That’s how much he hates me.