Ashford Elite Academy looked different from this side of power.
Same Gothic architecture that screamed we have old money and zero taste. Same manicured lawns that probably had their own therapy bills from the pressure of being perfect. Same pretentious fountain in the courtyard featuring some naked Greek dude who'd been pissing into a marble bowl for approximately two hundred years.
Classy. Very classy.
Five days ago, Phei had walked through these gates like a kicked dog hoping not to get kicked again.
Head down. Shoulders hunched.
Practically apologising for existing with every step.
Three days ago, he'd been furniture. Background noise. The human equivalent of that weird stain on the carpet everyone pretends not to see.
Today?
Today he walked like he owned the place.
Which he didn't. Obviously.
But nobody needs to know that.
