The bulletproof Maybach glided silently down the tree-lined avenue toward the elite prep school. Inside the cabin, the only sound was the faint, rhythmic hum of the air conditioning.
Aurora opened her eyes and stared at the passing streets. Her stomach gave a sharp, painful twist. The bacon hadn't been enough. Her body was screaming for sugar and heavy carbs.
As the car idled at a red light, the rich, buttery scent of baked dough drifted through the air vents. Aurora turned her head. A high-end French bakery sat on the corner.
She leaned forward and tapped her knuckles against the glass partition separating her from the driver.
"Arthur," she said. "Pull over. I want a cinnamon roll from there."
Arthur Finch glanced at her through the rearview mirror. Sweat instantly beaded on his forehead. Julian's orders were absolute: The Carlisle family did not make unplanned stops at crowded, public storefronts. It drew unwanted attention.
Arthur gripped the steering wheel tighter. He stammered, searching for an excuse. "I... I can't, Miss Aurora. That place is cash only. I don't have any cash on me."
It was a blatant lie. Arthur had a thick stack of hundred-dollar bills in his suit pocket for emergencies. But he couldn't risk Julian finding out he let the heiress wander into a public bakery.
Aurora froze. The words no cash echoed in her head.
Her mind instantly flashed back to the damp, freezing cell in The Quarry. She remembered watching a woman get beaten half to death over a single, moldy cracker because she had nothing to trade.
She looked at Arthur's tense shoulders. Her brain, still wired to the brutal logic of the prison, made a massive leap. Arthur was just a driver. He probably made minimum wage. He couldn't even afford a pastry.
The coldness in Aurora's eyes melted away, replaced by a sudden, heavy wave of pity. He was just like her. A pawn trapped at the bottom of a massive, uncaring system.
She let out a soft breath. "I'm sorry, Arthur. I shouldn't have asked."
The steering wheel jerked in Arthur's hands. The heavy car swerved slightly before he corrected it. He stared at her in the mirror, his eyes wide with sheer terror. Why was the heiress apologizing to him? Her tone was so submissive it made his blood run cold.
The car finally pulled up to the side entrance of the prep school. The Carlisle family never used the main gates. It was too flashy.
Aurora grabbed her backpack and pushed the heavy door open. Her black leather shoes hit the pavement.
Just a few yards away, standing by a vending machine, was Juston Tate.
Juston was a loud, obnoxious kid whose parents had new money. He obsessed over designer logos and flashy cars. He watched Aurora step out of the vehicle.
Because Julian insisted on absolute discretion, the Maybach had been stripped of all its chrome badging and wrapped in a dull, matte black finish. To someone like Juston, who only recognized wealth if it was screaming in his face, the car looked like a beat-up, secondhand sedan.
Juston paused with his hand on a soda can. He leaned closer, straining to hear.
Aurora turned back to the driver's seat. She unzipped her backpack and dug around until she found a crumpled, faded twenty-dollar bill. It was the only cash she had left from her allowance.
She held the bill out to Arthur. "Take this," she said, her voice completely serious. "Go get yourself something to eat. Don't drive on an empty stomach."
Arthur stared at the crumpled bill in her hand. His face went pale. He didn't reach for it. He didn't speak. He just sat there, paralyzed by the sheer absurdity of the situation.
Juston's jaw dropped. He took a step back, his heart pounding with malicious excitement.
He had just witnessed Aurora Carlisle-the untouchable, aloof girl who acted like she owned the school-getting out of a trashy car and giving her driver her last twenty bucks because he was starving.
A cruel, ugly smirk stretched across Juston's face. He had always hated how Aurora looked right through him. Now, he had the ultimate weapon.
Aurora didn't even notice Juston. She shoved the bill onto the passenger seat, turned around, and walked through the side gates.
Arthur watched her walk away. His hands were shaking violently. He snatched his phone from the console and hit the speed dial for Nathan Reed.
"Nathan," Arthur gasped, his chest heaving. "Something is wrong with Miss Aurora. She just gave me twenty dollars and told me not to starve."
By the vending machine, Juston abandoned his soda. He whipped out his phone and opened the school's anonymous gossip forum. His thumbs flew across the screen.
BREAKING: The Ice Queen is a FRAUD! Aurora Carlisle is broke! Rides in a trash car and her driver is literally begging for food. Charity case alert!
He hit send. The post went live. Within seconds, the comment counter began ticking up like a slot machine.
Aurora walked down the main path of the campus. The morning air was crisp.
She noticed the shift immediately. The usual stares of quiet envy and intimidation were gone. Instead, students were stopping in their tracks. They were looking at their phones, then looking at her.
Their eyes were filled with raw, unfiltered disgust. Girls covered their mouths, whispering and laughing. Boys pointed openly.
Aurora stopped walking. She looked at the crowd surrounding her. Her heart didn't speed up. Her hands didn't shake.
She felt a slow, dark smile creeping up the inside of her cheeks.
They were going to hand her the perfect excuse to go home.
