The school tried to return to normal.
Tried.
Classes resumed, but nobody was listening. Gossip mutated every hour. New theories surfaced like corpses in a shallow lake.
Some believed Providence was a secret cult.
Some said it was AI surveillance, foreign espionage, even an experiment funded by the President himself.
But none of that mattered.
Because the students weren't afraid anymore.
They were curious.
And curiosity was really dangerous.
---
In the West Wing, Amara sat in front of a tray of untouched breakfast. Her fingers tapped against her thigh, rhythmically, as if trying to decode her own thoughts.
Across from her, Toni sipped black coffee, cross-legged, eyes scanning an email Adrian had forwarded that morning.
"Fallon isn't going down," Toni said plainly. "She's being repositioned. Word is, the board called for her to 'take a sabbatical.' Meanwhile, they're 'restructuring.'"
Amara scoffed. "Restructuring what? A school or a machine?"
Toni met her gaze. "Both."
The silence hung like fog.
Then, Amara stood. "We're not waiting anymore."
"For what?"
"For Providence to make the next move."
---
That afternoon, Amara walked into the school's old record hall, it was a dusty archive no one had touched in years. She'd bribed a maintenance worker to unlock it.
She opened drawers. Dug through files. Looked for names she'd seen on the Providence network.
She didn't expect to find her own.
"Subject A. Parental resistance. High emotional endurance. Top percentile intellect. Recommended for core testing."
Taped to the back of the file was a letter. Handwritten.
Not by Fallon.
But by Fallon's predecessor, someone nobody ever talked about anymore.
"If Amara Okonkwo survives the final phase, promote her. But do not let her win. Keep her angry. Angry girls are loyal longer."
Her throat closed.
A setup.
Since Day One.
She wasn't just a student. She was a variable.
A result.
---
Meanwhile, Adrian was being summoned again.
This time not to Headmistress Fallon's office, but to a high-floor conference room known unofficially as "The Crown Room." It was where old trustees met behind locked doors.
He was escorted in by a man who didn't speak.
Inside: five men in suits. One woman. A long mahogany table. A single chair at the center.
They motioned for him to sit.
One of the men, silver-haired and tall, spoke first. "Adrian. Son of Ikenna Maduako. Blood of the Vice President. Do you know why you're here?"
Adrian didn't flinch. "Because I broke your toy."
"No," said the man. "Because you know how it works. You could be useful. Controlled."
Adrian blinked slowly. "And if I refuse?"
The woman on the panel finally spoke. "Then you're a liability."
Adrian laughed once, hollow. "You think threats will work?"
"No," said the man. "But we think you will. You don't want chaos, Adrian. You want to protect her."
Silence.
A picture was slid across the table.
Amara.
---
Back in her room, Amara found Toni waiting.
"You said we wouldn't wait," Toni said.
"We're not," Amara replied. "We're acting tonight."
Toni raised a brow. "What's the target?"
Amara's lips parted, and she said it slowly.
"The Crest Ball."
Toni blinked. "The Founders' Night ball?"
Amara nodded. "They're holding it despite everything. Press, guests, politicians. Fallon's replacement will be announced there."
"And?"
"And we hijack it."
Toni grinned. "How dramatic."
"Very," Amara said. "We expose the system from the inside. On their stage."
Toni tilted her head. "You planning to burn the whole thing down?"
Amara's eyes sharpened.
"No," she whispered. "I'm planning to replace it."
---
Across campus, someone watched them through a security feed.
From a private terminal deep beneath the school.
A hand hovered over a screen, fingers tapping lightly.
And then, a quiet voice belonging to no one the reader yet knew spoke into the silence:
"Activate Candidate B."
---
End of Chapter 36