Isabella instantly stopped pedaling and reached for her brakes faster than usual the moment the enormous sight of Royalty Academy loomed before her. The towering gates alone were enough to make her chest tighten.
Memories flooded her mind—embarrassments, whispered insults, mocking laughter, and the many humiliations she had endured at the hands of the students who ruled this place.
She shuddered.
If she had known what Royalty Academy truly was, she would have gladly stayed back at her poor but peaceful public school. At least there, she had felt human.
Here, this place was nothing short of hell for her. Standing on its soil felt like stepping straight into her worst nightmare.
For a brief moment, her mind screamed at her to turn around and ride back home. But she didn't. She stayed rooted where she was, gripping her bicycle handles tightly, refusing to let fear win.
Royalty Academy wasn't a bad school—Isabella knew that much. In fact, it was everything its name suggested. The most expensive and prestigious private school in the country. Its vast compound stretched endlessly, paved with smooth marble walkways and manicured green lawns trimmed to perfection. Massive cream-and-gold buildings rose proudly into the sky, their glass windows gleaming under the morning sun. Sculpted fountains, stone statues, and palm-lined paths surrounded the campus, giving it the air of a royal estate rather than a school.
But the beauty of the place only masked its ugliness.
The real problem wasn't the school—it was the students.
Royalty Academy housed the children of governors, politicians, tycoons, billionaires, moguls, royals, mafia lords, and filthy-rich elites. Power walked its corridors, entitlement breathed its air. And Isabella? She didn't belong.
She was the only scholarship student in the entire school, and it hadn't taken long for everyone to figure that out. In Royalty Academy, money was everything. The rich were heard, respected, feared. The poor were invisible—or worse, ridiculed.
She had felt that truth shoved in her face countless times.
That was why she kept her distance. Why she had no friends. Why she avoided clubs, activities, and gatherings. She didn't want to give them another reason to look down on her. She knew money couldn't be everything in life, no matter how much they believed it was, and she refused to let their shallow ideology define her worth.
Breaking free from her thoughts, Isabella inhaled deeply and let out a shaky sigh. She needed it—to steady herself.
She mounted her bicycle again and pedaled into the school compound.
Just as expected, heads turned.
Students stared. Some pointed. Some whispered behind manicured hands. Isabella ignored them all as she rode her rusted old bicycle across the immaculate grounds. For once, she refused to feel ashamed—even as students her age stepped out of limousines, Rolls-Royces, Benzes, Bugattis, Lamborghinis, Volkswagens, and sleek convertibles.
She didn't mind.
What troubled her came next.
As she reached the grand parking lot, reality struck hard. Royalty Academy had a strict rule: every student paid for their own private parking space. Isabella could never afford one. It was far beyond her reach.
Her bicycle—her most treasured possession, a gift from her late father—needed to be kept safe.
Usually, she discreetly squeezed it into small unused spaces between other students' parking lots, retrieving it quickly before school closed so the owner wouldn't notice. But she'd learned that lesson the hard way.
On her first day at Royalty Academy, unaware of the parking rules, she'd left her bicycle openly in someone else's spot. When she returned, it was gone. It took her an entire week to find it—dumped in the school's scrap yard like trash.
Since then, she'd been careful. Very careful.
She rode slowly through the parking lot now, scanning desperately for a small space where her bicycle could fit unnoticed. Just when she was about to give up, she spotted it—a section of the lot occupied by two limousines and a flashy sports car. There was a narrow space near the sporty car and the divider. It looked just wide enough.
Checking her wristwatch, her heart skipped. School would start in ten minutes.
She rode quickly toward the space and dismounted behind the sleek, expensive car. Standing there, she tried pushing her bicycle into the gap. At first, it resisted. Then she pushed harder.
That was when it happened.
The metal of her bicycle scraped harshly against the car, leaving a long, ugly scratch. Her breath caught. Before she could react, her hand slammed into the car's wing—and then the side-view mirror.
Crack.
She froze.
Her heart stopped.
Isabella stared at the damage in horror, her chest tightening as though the air had been sucked from her lungs. Her heart hammered violently, each beat louder than the last. She felt dizzy. Numb. Like the ground beneath her feet might give way at any moment.
She wished—desperately—that the earth would open up and swallow her whole.
She hadn't meant to do it. She hadn't even realized what she was doing. But the damage was real.
And so was the trouble she had just gotten herself into.