Class Sapphire had a new obsession.
And no, it wasn't grades, Benz models, or whose daddy owned a private island. That was old news.
Now, it was him.
Adrian.
Every hallway whisper. Every cafeteria glance. Every "oh-my-god-have-you-seen-him" started and ended with that name.
And somewhere in that chaos sat Toni Wuraola, the queen of Queen's Crest. Or at least… she used to be.
Now, she could feel it.
The shift.
The way girls looked at her not with fear or fake admiration anymore, but curiosity. Doubt.
That one emotion nobody ever dared throw her way.
Toni Wuraola was losing her spotlight.
And Toni Wuraola didn't share spotlights.
---
"Amara's playing dirty," she said that afternoon, lounging in the East Garden, the kind of place regular students only dreamed of seeing.
Her girls, Bisola and Mimi, flanked her like perfect accessories pretty, polished, and programmed to agree.
Bisola twirled a straw through her iced latte. "But he hasn't even said a word to her after his first day, babe. That's good news, no?"
Toni sipped her peach-and-hibiscus tea, pinky finger high. "No, B. It means she's doing something quietly. And quiet girls are the worst kind."
Mimi blinked. "Should we, like… check her background or something?"
Toni smiled, sharp, dangerous. "Her background is all over Forbes. I don't want her history. I want her weakness."
The sprinklers hummed in the distance. The roses glistened.
And Toni's grin widened like a slow-blooming trap.
"Let's make it official."
---
Meanwhile, down in the old greenhouse where plants went to die and secrets went to live. Amara Okonkwo sat across from her informant.
A jittery boy with too many scars and not enough future.
He slid a file across the table, hands shaking. "Ama, these records were sealed. I had to call in a favor from someone inside the national education board."
"Then read," she ordered, leaning back like she owned the air around her.
The boy flipped pages, voice trembling.
"Adrian Chukwuma Ikenna Maduako. Born in Abuja. Homeschooled till eleven. Blue Heights International. Suspended twice. Then he... disappeared for a year before showing up here."
Amara's brows furrowed. "Disappeared?"
"Like, completely. No school. No travel records. Nothing in Nigeria, nothing in London. Gone."
She stood, brushing imaginary lint off her designer slacks.
"That's the year I need to know about. The Vice President's son doesn't just 'vanish.' Find out why."
The boy hesitated. "Should I, should I tell anyone if I find something?"
She gave him a look that could kill small animals.
"I don't have friends."
---
That night, Toni typed a message that felt like the start of a war.
TO: Amara Okonkwo
SUBJECT: Since you're too scared to say it to my face.
Let's stop pretending. First one to make him fall wins.
Loser backs off permanently.
Deadline: Midterms.
Crown's honor.
— T
She hit send. Then stared at the screen.
One minute.
Two.
Three.
Ping.
RE: Game On.
No emojis. No trash talk. No disclaimers.
Just those two words.
And that was all it took to turn Queen's Crest into a battlefield.
---
The next day, you could feel it in the air.
Girls whispering in the bathrooms. Boys pretending not to listen but totally listening. Even the teachers acted like something was brewing.
And there he was, Adrian walking through the chaos like he didn't notice.
Didn't flinch when Toni "accidentally" brushed his arm at lunch. Didn't look twice when Amara's cold gaze sliced through the crowd.
Calm. Collected. A little too observant.
Because Adrian wasn't here for love.
He had his own mission.
And if either girl got too close, she'd end up a casualty.
---
That night, thunder cracked open the sky.
Power flickered across campus, plunging Queen's Crest into three minutes of darkness.
Most girls screamed.
Some took selfies.
Others ran for backup generators.
But in the west wing, someone was moving.
Soft footsteps. A flashlight beam. A gloved hand on a doorknob.
A room. A bed. A sleeping girl.
And on her pillow, a single red envelope.
---
By morning, the whole school was in meltdown.
The girl was found crying, clutching the envelope, mumbling about not wanting to die.
Security was called. Rumors exploded.
No one knew who sent it.
No one knew what it meant.
But scrawled in red ink, the message said:
"You're not the only one with secrets."
---
Now Queen's Crest had two queens and one ticking bomb.
And neither of them knew the boy they were fighting over… was the one who lit the fuse.