The call came the next morning.
She stared at her phone for a long moment before answering.
"Mother."
"You attended the school gala last night," her mother said, voice calm but firm.
It wasn't a question.
"Yes."
There was a brief pause. "You were seen."
Her fingers tightened around the phone. "I was careful."
"I know," her mother replied. "But careful is no longer enough."
Silence stretched between them.
"The entertainment board has noticed unusual attention around you," her mother continued. "And attention invites investigation."
She closed her eyes. "I understand."
"Do you?" Her mother's tone softened—just slightly. "Your life will never be simple. You knew that before stepping into the spotlight again."
"I didn't choose the spotlight this time," she said quietly. "It followed me."
Another pause.
"Be cautious," her mother said at last. "Some truths cannot be revealed yet."
The call ended.
At school, the atmosphere felt heavier than ever.
Lucien noticed it immediately.
"You're distracted," he said as they sat down.
"My family knows about the gala," she replied. "They're worried."
Lucien leaned back in his chair. "And you?"
She looked at him. "I'm tired of pretending I don't exist."
That answer stayed with him.
During lunch, a group of teachers stood near the hallway, speaking in low voices. One of them glanced toward her—too long to be accidental.
Lucien's jaw tightened.
"They're watching," he murmured.
She nodded. "They always are."
For the first time, Lucien realized something he hadn't fully understood before.
Being close to her meant stepping into a world far bigger—and far more dangerous—than school rumors.
But the thought didn't scare him.
It grounded him.
That evening, she stood alone in front of her mirror, staring at her reflection.
Student.
Idol.
Heiress.
Daughter.
How many versions of herself could exist before one of them shattered?
Her phone buzzed.
Lucien: No matter what happens, I'm on your side.
She smiled faintly.
Outside, the city lights flickered on one by one.
The lines had been drawn.
Secrets were tightening their grip.
And soon, someone would be forced to cross a line that could never be undone.