At Daxton, silence rarely meant safety.
It meant something was watching you decide how loud to be.
The morning after the speech, Sonia expected fallout. Repercussions. Summons from Claire. A fresh round of rumors, maybe even a headline like:
“Vale Legacy Melts Down On Stage.”
Or worse:
“Girl in Boy’s Blazer Admits It All.”
But there was nothing.
No disciplinary summons.
No Cartel invitation.
No Mavina gloat.
Just a soft, manufactured quiet that made Sonia feel like she was standing in the eye of something much, much bigger.
Even Eric seemed cautious, walking beside her on the quad with his hands deep in his coat pockets like he didn’t want them to shake.
“You made waves,” he said, voice low.
“I didn’t say anything they couldn’t already guess.”
“That’s what makes it dangerous.
