Arielle didn’t go straight to class.
Instead, she walked to the back of the school building where it was quieter, her heels clicking against the pavement. She needed space to think, and more importantly, she needed to decide exactly how she was going to handle this.
Because this wasn’t just about some shady i********: page throwing shade—it was about sending a message.
Her phone buzzed. She glanced down.
📩 Anonymous: Enjoy your last days as the center of attention. The Gala will be your end.
Her fingers curled around the phone so tightly that her knuckles turned white. Whoever this was, they wanted her rattled. But Arielle Summers didn’t break—she strategized.
And if they thought they could ruin her at the Elite Gala, they had no idea who they were dealing with.
By lunch, the whispe
