"Miss Kingsley… you've officially been expelled."
Brielle Kingsley leaned back in the leather chair, legs crossed, black nails drumming on the armrest. She didn't flinch. She didn't blink. She just stared at the principal like he'd told her the sky was blue.
Across the office, her mother let out a long, disappointed sigh.
Her father stayed silent, his jaw tight with that barely-contained Kingsley rage she'd inherited.
"You burned school property," the principal continued, as if reading from a script. "You assaulted a student..."
"I splashed him," Brielle interrupted, voice flat. "With juice."
He narrowed his eyes. "While he was inside a locked locker."
Brielle shrugged, twisting a strand of platinum-blonde hair around her finger. "He said my mom bought my grades. I thought he could use a little humility."
Her mother winced. Her father stood up.
"That's enough. We'll handle this privately."
Brielle didn't even look at him. She just stood too, smooth as always, and adjusted her black cropped blazer.
Expelled. Again. Fifth school in three years.
Her record was glittering with scandals, headlines, and a social media following bigger than most reality stars. Brielle Kingsley wasn't just known... she was infamous. And deep down?
It was exhausting.
She exited the principal's office first, chin high, heels echoing down the marble hallway like she owned it. Because in her world, she usually did.
But when they got into the car, and the driver pulled away from yet another elite school she wouldn't be returning to, silence fell heavy.
"I hope you know what you're doing," her father finally said. "We're done covering for you."
"You don't cover for me. You cover for yourselves," Brielle muttered, eyes fixed on the city outside the window.
"You're going to St. Augustine's" her mother said. "This weekend. No negotiating."
Brielle froze. St. Augustine's Academy. A punishment disguised as a school. Zero tolerance for nonsense, filled with charity cases and rules. No designer dorms. No influencers. Just... dust and discipline.
"Are you serious?" she snapped.
Her dad turned to her, voice cold. "Last chance. You mess this up, Brielle, you're cut off."
The word landed harder than she expected. Cut off. Like she was a tumor. Like they were done pretending she wasn't broken.
Brielle looked down at her lap, her carefully manicured fingers tightening around the hem of her skirt. For a second, just one, her façade cracked.
But then she laughed.
Loud, careless, sharp. "Well. Guess I better pack my tiara."
Because if chaos was all she had, she'd wear it like a crown.
What she didn't know was; St. Augustine's Academy already had a king.
And he wasn't about to let a spoiled queen wreck his kingdom.