Becoming Little

Chapter Nine: The Villain Enters

Ari was still recovering.

Her fever had broken two days earlier, but the exhaustion lingered like a fog. She’d skipped most classes, choosing instead to sleep in late, sip tea in the garden, and draw quietly in the art room. Jasper checked in with her every day, never overstaying, never pushing.

She hadn’t said Daddy again.

But he hadn’t brought it up either.

That somehow made it feel more real.

Like it was hers.

The first time she saw Veronica Vale, she didn’t know who she was.

Tall. Impeccably dressed. Not soft like the other caregivers. Her clothes were tailored, her posture rigid, her smile tight. There was nothing pastel or welcoming about her. She looked like someone who taught etiquette to rich kids and punished them for blinking too loud.

Ari was sitting in the garden sketching when Veronica passed by, eyeing her as if she were a mess left on the lawn.

“You must be the new stray,” she said, voice clipped and British.

Ari blinked. “Excuse me?”

“You’re Ari, yes? The Undecided girl. The one Jasper’s taken a special interest in.” Her eyes narrowed just slightly. “Curious choice.”

Ari raised an eyebrow. “Do you greet all the students with passive-aggressive insults, or am I just lucky?”

Veronica gave a thin smile. “I believe in honesty. Not everyone is suited for this lifestyle. Some people bring… damage that doesn't belong here.”

Ari felt the old fire stir in her chest. “You mean people like me?”

Veronica didn’t answer. Just turned and walked away.

Later that day, Ari found Penny in the playroom, wearing a glittery crown and sorting blocks by color.

“Hey,” Ari said, still tense. “Who’s that witch with the stick up her—uh, with the attitude?”

Penny giggled. “Veronica. She’s a caregiver. Used to be big in the stricter Littles circles—rules, punishments, ‘old-school dynamics.’ Totally not Eden Hollow vibes.”

“So why is she here?”

“Long story. Miss Eden believes in second chances.” Penny leaned in. “But everyone knows Veronica thinks trauma makes people unfit to be Littles. She’s all about purity and obedience. Gross, right?”

Ari looked down at the drawing in her lap. It was a picture of her fox, this time wearing a paper crown and surrounded by stars.

“She doesn’t think people like me belong here.”

Penny reached over and took Ari’s hand. “Then she doesn’t get what this place is for.”

Things got weirder after that.

Ari started noticing odd looks. Caregivers whispering when she walked by. Her art supplies vanishing from her dorm. Her room inspection “failing” for the first time, though she’d cleaned it the same way she always did.

Then came the meeting.

Jasper found her in the lounge, face tight.

“Miss Eden wants to speak with you.”

Ari’s stomach dropped. “Why? What did I do?”

“She didn’t say,” Jasper replied. But he looked concerned.

Too concerned.

Miss Eden’s office was warm as always, filled with candles and flowers and soft chairs. But the mood was different this time—quieter. Heavier.

She gestured for Ari to sit.

“I’ve received a report,” she said gently. “Claiming that you’ve been verbally aggressive to caregivers and that you intentionally triggered a regression crisis in another student.”

Ari stared. “What?! That’s not true. Who said that?”

“I’m not permitted to disclose the source yet. But I want to hear from you. Have you had any conflicts recently?”

Ari felt her hands shaking. “Veronica. She said stuff. I snapped back. That’s it. I didn’t hurt anyone. I swear.”

Miss Eden nodded, listening.

Jasper sat quietly at Ari’s side, steady as always.

“I believe you,” Eden finally said. “But this accusation is serious. We’ll be investigating.”

Ari stood. “She wants me gone. She thinks I’m broken. That I don’t deserve this.”

Jasper rose with her. “You do deserve this,” he said firmly.

Miss Eden looked her in the eye. “You have a place here, Ari. One report doesn’t change that.”

But the damage had already been done.

The safety—the warmth—had cracked.

And Ari, for the first time since arriving, felt the pull of her old instinct rising.

Run before they make you leave.

That night, curled in bed with her fox under her chin, she whispered into the dark:

“Don’t take this from me.”

She didn’t know who she was talking to.

Maybe Jasper.

Maybe Eden.

Maybe the universe.

But the words came out like a prayer.

And deep down, a little voice inside her—quiet, fragile, Little—begged for this place to keep her.

Because she wasn’t ready to lose it yet.