Aria had learned in her first life that most wars weren't fought with swords or bullets.
They were fought in whispers. Glances. Smiles that hid poison.
And in a place like St. Rosamund's Academy, she was already on the front lines.
---
The day began like any other—except today, Brielle had decided to play the perfect darling in full throttle.
"Lucien!" she called sweetly in the courtyard, waving both hands as if they were already dating. "Over here! I saved you a seat!"
Lucien Blackthorn, dressed in his usual crisp uniform and emotional silence, barely spared her a glance as he made his way across campus. But Brielle's friends were already squealing.
"He's so handsome."
"She's so lucky."
Aria stood near the stone fountain, silently observing. She could feel Lucien's gaze flick toward her—brief, unreadable, and sharp.
Brielle, noticing this, smirked and leaned against Lucien as he sat down.
"Do you want to go to the Autumn Gala with me?" she asked, loud enough for the nearby students to hear.
Lucien didn't even look at her. "No."
"But—"
"I don't do galas."
Then he stood and walked off.
Even with that rejection, Brielle managed to pout cutely, gaining sympathy from the onlookers.
"She's so brave," one girl whispered. "I'd die if I got rejected in public."
Aria hid a smile.
Brave? No.
Pathetic? Yes.
But let the world call her brave—Aria preferred to remain underestimated.
---
Later that morning, Aria stepped into Advanced Literature class and immediately felt the shift in atmosphere. The whispers, the side-eyes.
She sat down calmly.
Then a slip of paper fluttered onto her desk.
"Maybe don't wear black if you want to stop looking like a funeral."
No name. Just laughter from the back.
Aria folded the note without reacting.
Beside her, a new student with olive skin and violet-streaked braids leaned over. "Ignore them. They're allergic to IQ points."
Aria blinked.
"I'm Nova Ainsley," the girl whispered. "Transferred from the art campus. You're Aria, right? The one with the tragic backstory?"
"Do I have a tragic backstory?"
Nova grinned. "It's the only reason people pay attention to you at this school. That and the fact that your stepsister wants your man."
Aria arched a brow. "Lucien isn't my anything."
"Mmm," Nova hummed. "Sure. But you looked at him like he's your unfinished poem."
Aria couldn't help but smirk.
---
At lunch, things got worse.
A new rumor had started: Aria had tried to bribe her way into Blackthorn Academy and got rejected. The whispers were cruel, and Ethan—unaware of the truth—was fueling them with his twisted version of "concern."
"I'm just saying," he said loudly, "Aria's under a lot of pressure. You shouldn't judge her if she's acting out."
Aria, walking past, heard it clearly.
So did Lucien.
Their eyes met across the quad. His expression unreadable.
She walked away without a word, even as Ethan called after her.
"Aria! Hey—wait!"
He caught up with her under the shade of the old oak tree.
"You're avoiding me again."
"I'm living," she said, "and you keep popping up like a virus."
Ethan winced. "You're still mad."
"You think this is about anger?"
He stepped closer. "You loved me once."
"I also believed Santa Claus was real," she said. "Turns out that was a lie too."
He didn't get it. She could see it in his eyes. He thought she was pushing him away because of pain. Because she still cared.
Good.
Let him rot in that belief.
---
That evening, Aria met with her mother's former attorney—now quietly working for her under a new name.
"Your father's assets have a soft spot," he said, sliding a folder across the café table. "A shell company registered in a tax haven. That's where he's hiding the money he stole from Vale Luxe."
Aria stared at the documents. A quiet, dark satisfaction bloomed in her chest.
"Good," she said. "Leak just enough. Make it look like incompetence."
"You sure? It might bring unwanted attention."
"I want all the attention," she replied. "Just not on me."
---
Back at the Blackthorn estate, Lucien poured himself a glass of scotch and stared out the window.
He didn't trust her. Aria Vale was trouble—sharp-tongued, clever, and hiding something behind those ice-blue eyes.
But for some reason, he couldn't stop watching her.
"Thinking about the girl again?" Devon asked from the leather armchair, flipping through market reports.
"She's dangerous."
Devon smirked. "And you're curious."
Lucien didn't respond.
---
The next school day brought something unexpected: a new club announcement.
Debate tryouts. Public speaking, argument structure, team representation.
Aria smiled when she saw the sign-up sheet.
Perfect. A chance to destroy Brielle without ever raising her voice.
But when she arrived at tryouts, she found Brielle already there—posing for photos with the organizers.
"I didn't know you were into debate," Aria said coolly.
Brielle batted her lashes. "Lucien's sponsoring the club. I thought it might be fun to support him."
"Fun," Aria echoed. "Like plagiarism?"
Brielle's smile twitched.
---
They ended up in the same round. The topic? "Power corrupts even the innocent."
Brielle, assigned the "con" side, tried to argue that power could be wielded with kindness.
Aria shredded her.
"Innocence is not armor," she said. "It's bait. The powerful don't stay kind—they just learn how to look it."
The room fell silent when she finished.
Even the judge raised an eyebrow.
Aria won, of course. But Brielle won something else: sympathy.
"She was so brave to go against Aria."
"Aria's too cold. Too perfect."
"She's just bitter."
Aria smiled to herself.
Let them believe that. Let them fuel her revenge with their pity for Brielle.
---
That night, she returned home to find a text on her phone from an unknown number.
[Unknown]: You speak like someone who's lost everything.
She stared at the screen.
Aria: Who is this?
[Unknown]: Someone who sees through masks.
Aria: Lucien?
No reply.
But somehow, she knew it was him.
---
At the Autumn Gala, held in the crystal ballroom of the East Wing Hotel, Aria wore a fitted wine-red dress that shimmered like blood in candlelight.
She arrived alone.
Brielle arrived on Lucien's arm.
Or rather, she tried to.
Lucien stepped away the moment they entered, leaving her red-faced and scrambling to save face.
"Lucien, wait!" she called. "Do you want a drink—?"
He was already gone.
And across the room, his eyes found Aria.
Their gazes clashed.
For one second, the noise faded. The music dulled. The world narrowed.
Then a voice sliced through it.
"Aria," Kai Renley said, appearing beside her with two glasses of champagne. "Ever get tired of being the most interesting woman in the room?"
She took the glass.
"Only when surrounded by men who think flattery is currency."
He grinned. "That's not currency. That's a weapon."
Aria sipped her drink, eyes never leaving Lucien.
Kai leaned in. "You want to ruin someone, don't you?"
She didn't answer.
"I can help," he whispered. "I want to watch the world burn too."
---
By the end of the night, Ethan had tried—and failed—to corner her in conversation again. Brielle had staged a fake trip to fall into Lucien's arms. And Aria had quietly passed a USB drive containing financial records to a journalist in the bathroom hallway.
The next morning, the headlines broke.
"Vale Corporation Faces Internal Probe After Leaked Documents Reveal Shell Accounts"
Her father's company stock plummeted 8% in a day.
Aria watched the news from the comfort of her bed, sipping tea.
And smiled.