Zoey
School was supposed to feel familiar. Safe. Like slipping into my favorite sweater or breathing in the smell of old library books. But as I walked into campus that morning, backpack slung over my shoulder, hoodie pulled low, it felt like every brick was staring at me.
I had told the driver Alex assigned to drop me two fences away from the school gate. Although he refused at first, he later succumbed. And I could still feel his stares at the back of my head as I made my way into the school, but I didn't look back.
Whispers floated through the corridor. Soft, sharp, everywhere.
“She’s the girl.”
“The billionaire’s wife.”
“No way that’s real.”
“Check her ring. Did you see it on i********:—?”
I kept my gaze forward. Deep breaths. Small steps. Pretend you’re invisible even when yo
