Secrets don’t stay hidden at Daxton.
They get dressed up, polished, and announced on stage.
Sonia gripped the printed Gala list until her knuckles whitened. Her name—Sonia Vale—was printed in bold type, right under the Daxton crest.
Not Silas.
Not “S. Vale.”
But Sonia.
Her body went cold.
If that list was read aloud at the October Gala, Daxton’s most public, most photographed event—she was finished. She wouldn’t even need to be exposed. The announcement would do it for her.
Her secret would end with a spotlight and a round of applause.
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She took the stairs two at a time and stormed into the West Archives. The scanner didn’t recognize her card anymore—probably because of the student ID she snapped during the Morvain challenge—so she rerouted through the east-side laundry chute.
