By the next morning, Le Rosey was no longer the same. Rumors of obsidian choosing bronze had flooded every corridor, every dining hall, every whispered conversation under the chandeliers.
The gold girls sat fuming, their painted nails digging into designer notebooks. Silver boys gritted their teeth, muttering curses under their breath. Even the seniors, the heirs who once thought themselves untouchable, stood by the windows of the upper floors, their golden beads gleaming in the light as they watched, waiting. Obsidians had shaken the world with a single glance. And everyone wanted to know what would happen next.
That morning, as Xavier opened the Rolls-Royce door for us, we gave him a quiet instruction.
"Pass through their road."
He understood without a word. The engine purred to life, the polished car gliding away from the estate, cutting through the mountain air of St. Moritz. When the bronze girls appeared in the distance, walking shoulder to shoulder along the uneven road, their schoolbags heavy against their backs, we felt the tension rise inside the car. Their heads were lowered, voices hushed, unaware of the storm their names now carried. The Rolls slowed beside them, its presence impossible to ignore. Windows slid down, and we leaned out, voices smooth but insistent.
"Get in."
Chiara froze mid-step, her dark curls shifting in the breeze. Elena's lips parted, ready with some fiery retort, while Maya's eyes narrowed in suspicion. They didn't move.
"We'll take you to school," Valentina added, her crimson hair catching the sun. "The road's rough. No reason to walk."
"We're fine," Maya replied sharply, her tone clipped. Gasps rose from the onlookers. Refusing obsidian was unheard of.
"Too fine to ride in comfort?" Isabella's cool voice cut through the air. She tilted her head, a faint smirk tugging at her lips. "You'll arrive covered in dust while others whisper about you." Is that what you want?"
Elena laughed nervously, glancing at the car, then at the triplets. "We don't need your pity—"
"It's not pity," Sofia interrupted softly, her golden-brown hair spilling over her shoulder. Her voice was calm, steady, but her eyes held steel. "It's insistence." Get in."
Still, the bronzes hesitated, their pride pulling them one way, the weight of the world pulling them another. And then they noticed the stares. From across the street, parents paused, their eyes wide with both fear and awe at the obsidian girls calling to their daughters. Windows creaked open as neighbours leaned out to watch. Whispers carried on the wind.
"Are those the Marinos?"
"They're… asking them to ride with them?"
"Oh God, those bronze girls are really chosen."
The bronze girls stiffened under the scrutiny. To refuse would be seen as arrogance. To accept would brand them forever as belonging to us. The pressure mounted with every second. Finally, Chiara exhaled, her voice barely above a whisper. "Fine."
One by one, they approached the Rolls-Royce. Xavier stepped out, opening the door with quiet deference, as though welcoming royalty. The bronzes slipped inside hesitantly, the scent of leather and faint perfume wrapping around them like a spell. The road was as cruel as ever, jagged, uneven, bouncing beneath the tires. As the car lurched, Chiara nearly toppled forward, only to feel Valentina's arm circle her waist firmly, steadying her.
"You're safe," Valentina murmured. Chiara's cheeks flushed, but she didn't pull away.
On the other side, Elena bumped hard against Isabella, who chuckled low, sliding an arm around her with practiced ease. "I warned you," Isabella teased, tightening her hold as though she had no intention of letting go. Elena scoffed but didn't move, her chestnut hair brushing Isabella's shoulder as the car swayed again.
Maya lasted the longest, stiff and unyielding, her knuckles white as she gripped the seat. But when the road jolted suddenly, she stumbled, and Sofia caught her without hesitation. Strong hands at her waist, warm breath in her ear.
"Don't fight me," Sofia whispered. "Just lean." For a heartbeat, Maya froze. Then, slowly, almost reluctantly, she did.
By the time the Rolls glided into Le Rosey's gates, the scene was complete: three Marino's daughters, each with a bronze girl pressed into her side, hands possessively at their waists. The effect was immediate. The golden girls at the entrance gasped, fury lighting their eyes as they gripped their skirts so tightly their knuckles whitened. Silver boys clenched fists, envy twisting their faces. And from the five-story balconies above, seniors leaned forward, their golden beads gleaming as they whispered among themselves. The gossip exploded louder than ever.
"They brought bronzes to school in their Rolls!"
"They were holding them, touching them like they're already theirs."
"Do you realize what this means? No one will dare approach those girls now."
But beneath the chaos, one truth solidified like stone. The Marino's had made their choice. And the bronzes, whether they wanted it or not, belonged to obsidian now.