It's been two days since my talk with Thorne. I stayed locked in my room after that. Callista and the girls brought me food, but I never touched it. The scandalous rumor about me and Thorne had died down, yet I remained curled up, unable to shake the weight of everything.
Luckily, I didn’t have any classes since the professors were preparing for the upcoming exposures.
As I lay hugging my pillow, a knock echoed from the door. Before I could say anything, it creaked open. I didn’t react—I already knew it was one of the girls bringing food again.
"Hey, sweetie," Callista’s voice filled the quiet room. Slowly, I turned to face her. Her red hair was in a bun, and she smiled at me. She wasn’t carrying food this time, just standing there, watching me.
“Someone left a letter for you,” she said, stepping closer and sitting on the edge of my bed.
"From who?" My voice barely carried across the room. A small part of me hoped—hoped it was from Thorne. That he’d explain everything, that this was all some elaborate act to protect us.
“It’s from the council,” she answered, handing me a small white envelope.
Disappointment settled deep in my chest. I swallowed hard, forcing myself to accept reality—he wasn’t coming back.
"I’ll just leave it here," Callista said, placing the envelope on my bedside table. "Ainsley made your favorite soup. I hope you’ll come out and eat with us." She stood up, walking toward the door before pausing. "We miss you, sweetie."
I gave her a weak smile. "I’ll see what I can do. Thanks, Cal."
As she left, I reached for the envelope, my fingers trembling slightly. I tore it open and read through the neatly printed words.
A notice. A mild punishment. Community service. Glacierbrook.
I had almost forgotten about Glacierbrook.
I let out a slow breath, my fingers gripping the paper. I was still hurt, and that was valid—but there was a bigger reason to go. Glacierbrook held answers. If there was any chance of proving the truth about my parents, I had to take it.
Swallowing the ache in my chest, I forced myself up and walked toward the door. As I stepped into the living room, I was met with the sight of Callista doing her nails and Ainsley reading on the couch.
They both looked up, their eyes widening as they took me in.
I missed them. I missed their laughter, their noise, the way they could make the room feel alive.
Then Stella appeared from the kitchen, pausing mid-step when she saw me.
"Hi, girls," I said softly, offering a small smile.
Ainsley shot up first, rushing toward me with open arms. Her warmth was immediate, grounding. Callista and Stella weren’t far behind, joining the embrace.
"I wasn’t dead, you know," I joked, my voice a little hoarse.
Callista scoffed. "It felt like it."
"We’re just happy you finally stepped out of your room," Stella said. "I hope my soup was what convinced you."
I chuckled. "Of course it was."
That night, I ate dinner with them. Callista entertained us with the latest campus rumors and stories of her own mischief, while Ainsley chimed in with sarcastic remarks. For the first time in days, I smiled—really smiled.
I told them about the punishment and the upcoming community service. They were relieved it wasn’t anything worse, and as we talked, I felt lighter.
Maybe things weren’t okay yet. Maybe I wasn’t okay yet.
But I wasn’t alone.
The first day of community service started with me being assigned to clean two classrooms—alone. I sighed, grabbing the broom and getting to work.
Sweeping. Scrubbing. Mopping. Wiping away years of dust.
I lost track of time, focused only on the rhythmic motions of cleaning. The rooms were in rough shape, probably abandoned for a while. Maybe they were planning to renovate them into usable classrooms again.
Hours later, I stepped back to admire my work. The two rooms were spotless, floors shining under the dim light. A small sense of accomplishment filled me—I did that.
But then, there was one last room left.
At the very end of the hallway.
Callista had mentioned it before. Something about it being an old laboratory, unused for years. A student had died there after a mysterious accident.
Silly Callista and her ghost stories.
Shaking off the eerie feeling creeping up my spine, I reached for the doorknob and pushed it open.
A thick cloud of dust greeted me, the scent of old books and chemicals clinging to the air.
Cracked glass littered the countertops, cobwebs clung to the lab tubes, and the books on the shelves were barely visible beneath layers of dust. Black scorch marks marred one of the laboratory tables—the aftermath of an explosion that had frozen this room in time.
I stepped inside, swallowing the unease creeping into my chest.
This was going to take a while.
I put away the cracked tubes and broken glass first, carefully gathering the pieces so I wouldn’t end up slicing my fingers. Then, I tackled the bigger junk—chairs with missing legs, a cabinet that looked like it had been through an earthquake, and a few rusted tools that had no purpose anymore.
Sweat trickled down my forehead as I worked. The air was thick with dust, so I grabbed a mask to avoid sneezing my lungs out. I started sweeping, brushing away cobwebs from the ceiling, clearing years of dirt from the floor.
Just as I reached the bookshelf, a sharp cling of breaking glass echoed from outside.
I froze.
A shiver ran down my spine, my heartbeat quickening.
I swallowed hard, scanning the room. Nothing.
The sky outside had darkened, heavy clouds rolling in like a storm was about to hit.
I sighed, shaking off the unease. It’s just the wind… right?
I went back to dusting—until another crackle of glass breaking made me jump. This time, it was closer.
Okay. Nope.
I gripped the duster like a weapon. “Hello?” I called, voice not as steady as I’d like.
Silence.
Then—something moved behind me.
I spun around so fast I nearly tripped over a chair. The dim light flickered, shadows stretching across the room.
Something was there.
Something tall.
Something watching me .
“Boo.”
I swung the duster, smacking the figure in the face. Hard.
“OW—Zaira! It’s me!”
The lights flickered fully on, and I finally saw who it was.
Caden.
Holding his nose, looking extremely offended.
My breath came out in a furious huff. “What the hell, Caden?! Are you trying to give me a heart attack?”
He grinned—because of course, he found this funny. “I was just checking on you! Thought I’d add a little spooky ambiance to the haunted lab.”
I smacked his arm. “You are the haunted part of this lab!”
He laughed, rubbing his arm. “Come on, admit it—was a little funny.”
I glared at him. “You know what’s funny? Your funeral arrangements.”
Caden immediately stepped back, hands up. “Alright, alright—truce! No more jump scares.”
I narrowed my eyes. “Good. Now grab a broom, you menace.
He sighed dramatically. “This is the thanks I get for checking in on you.”
But he picked up the broom anyway.
The sound of our brooms sweeping filled the silence between us. Surprisingly, Caden was actually helping instead of goofing around. I stole a glance at him.
"Why are you here exactly?" I asked.
He smirked. "Community duty, same as you. I was checking the rooms nearby when I saw you walk in." His grin turned mischievous. "Figured I’d drop in… and scare you a little."
I rolled my eyes. "Right. Because nearly giving me a heart attack is so entertaining."
He chuckled but didn’t deny it. A few minutes later, I heard a soft thud—his broom hitting the floor. When I turned, he was holding up two paper bags.
"We're almost done. What about a break?" he asked, handing one to me.
I sighed, but curiosity got the best of me. Opening the bag, I found a fresh homemade sandwich and a bottle of lemon juice. My stomach growled at the sight.
"You made this?" I asked skeptically. Then I frowned. "Wait, why do you have two?"
Caden leaned back against the desk, smirking. "I saw someone delivering community service invitations to the female dorms. He was asking about your room, so I figured you'd be on the team. Thought I'd make two lunches—one for me and one for you."
I blinked at him. "Caden, that's creepy—but thanks, I guess." I unwrapped the sandwich, taking a bite.
His brows furrowed. "Creepy? How is that creepy?"
I swallowed before answering. "Because you basically followed someone to the female dorms just to confirm if I’d be on this team."
"It's not like that," he scoffed. "I just had a hunch you'd be picked."
I was about to take another bite when his next words froze me.
"The rumors. About you and Professor Thorne."
My grip on the sandwich tightened. I swallowed hard, forcing myself to stay calm.
Keep it together, Zaira.
"It was a false rumor," I said firmly, even though I knew the truth was more complicated. Thorne had said he was saving me, and in a way, he was right.
Caden leaned back, arms crossed. "We know. Yet here you are."
I frowned. "Meaning?"
"You wouldn't be here if it wasn’t somewhat true." His tone was casual, but his gaze was sharp.
I exhaled. "I’m here for a different reason, actually."
"And what reason would that be?"
I shrugged. "I went to the restricted balcony. That's where Professor Thorne found me and told me it was off-limits." I kept my voice neutral, sticking to the story from the letter.
Caden studied me for a moment before a smirk tugged at his lips. "Alright, snowball, I believe you."
I blinked. "Snowball?" My brows furrowed.
He grinned. "Yeah. You're small, pale, and always cold."
I rolled my eyes. "Feels weird hearing a nickname from you." Only one person had ever given me nicknames like that, and he was gone.
Sensing the shift in my mood, Caden cleared his throat. "Anyway, about Glacierbrook—I asked my dad about the guy you're looking for, but he doesn’t know who that person is exactly."
I sighed. "I see..."
Though, I already know who Therese’s daughter since I overheard Thorne back then, he is the child tjat I was looking for, though he called my parents a killer and called me the daughter of a killer. I didn't understand—connecting it to my dream if that was true. My father was killed and my mother and I managed to escape. 
“What's the plan?” he asked. 
“What?” I asked, looking at me.
“I told you that I can help you right? so, what's the plan?” he asked again. 
“I didn't ask you to help me right?” 
He nodded in response, “I know, it's my will to help” he grinned. 
I sighed again. “Fine,Since we're going to Glacierbrook, I'm sure we'll find something there. My mother sent my aunt a letter and we were from Glacierbrook before” I said 
Though I already knew who Therese’s child was—Thorne. I had overheard him before. He was the person I had been searching for all this time. Yet, he had called my parents killers. He had called me the daughter of a murderer.
I didn’t understand. If my dreams held any truth, my father had been killed, and my mother and I had barely escaped. So why did Thorne believe otherwise?
“What’s the plan?” Caden’s voice snapped me from my thoughts.
“What?” I blinked at him.
“You heard me,” he said, leaning forward. “I told you I’d help, so what’s the plan?”
I frowned. “I didn’t ask for your help.”
He just shrugged. “I know. I want to help.” A grin tugged at his lips.
I let out a sigh. “Fine. Since we’re going to Glacierbrook, I’m sure we’ll find something there. My mother once sent my aunt a letter, and we were from Glacierbrook before…”
Maybe that place held the answers I needed.
Thorne
I made my way toward the greenhouse, my jaw tight as I reminded myself why I was here. An annual stupid tea party. Of course, it was filled with elites and royals, and of course, I was fucking forced to attend.
I didn’t even like tea. I preferred rum—especially after this hellish week.
I had just wrapped up a meeting with some elites regarding the funding and donations for new technologies I’d be bringing in. That was something useful—this, however, was not. But declining wasn’t an option, not with the eyes that would be watching.
As I stepped into the greenhouse, I was met with an overwhelming display of artificial floral arrangements in shades of pink, purple, and white, hanging from the ceiling and lining the walls.
The enclosed patio, draped with cream-colored curtains, was filled with elegantly set tables. Plates, cups, and napkins were placed with meticulous precision. The chairs, white with intricate wrought iron details, had pink upholstered cushions that screamed unnecessary luxury. The tablecloths were a soft lavender-pink, patterned with delicate floral or damask designs.
It was extravagant, delicate, and utterly suffocating.
I leaned back against the chair, idly holding a strawberry cream biscuit between my fingers as I observed the room. The suffocating sweetness of the greenhouse was nothing compared to the irritation clawing at my nerves—the lingering stares from women across the room, eyes trailing me like I was some prize to be won. Their silent invitations were obvious, their intentions even more so.
Fucking hell.
I ignored them, letting my gaze drift again. That was when I spotted her—Princess Stellamarisse, laughing among the elites. Sweet, charming, and entirely too naive to be entertaining those kinds of people. Dangerous men in tailored suits, women in silken gowns that dripped with pretense. If she was here, then that bastard had to be nearby.
“I didn’t know you liked princess-themed tea parties, Ackerman.”
A cold, husky voice cut through the air behind me. I turned, already expecting the smirk in his tone before I even saw his face.
Blackwell.
Dressed in a crisp white button-up that strained slightly against his biceps, sleeves rolled just enough to show off the strength beneath. But what really caught my attention was the ridiculous pink bow tied neatly around his collar.
I smirked. “I didn’t know you were fond of pink.”
As far as I've known Blackwell was keep an eye of the princess not his officially bodyguard yet. I didn't know that Blackwell will agree on this bodyguard thing not his type nit his job takig care about some little princess having tea parties.
“It wasn't my decision” he said. 
I raised my brows “Really now?” 
 
We talked for a bit, were outside at the greenhouse away from the stares of the elites, Until a woman with golden hair walked outside. 
“I guess someone is looking for you now” I said coldly, Stella was marching towards here. 
“Princess is there a problem—” before Blackwell could finish, a thud—a painful slap greeted me from her. It wasn't painful at all it stings. 
“Princess!” Blackwell immediately caught her when she was about to do something towardd me. 
“You bastard! You really had the guts to show your face in here after all you did! After all you did to Zaira because of you!—” Blackwell stopped her. 
“Let me have him Zion!” he yelled. I sighed again. lt wanting another scandal. 
“Apologies for the trouble, I'll take my leave now” I bowed as I let myself walk out. I shouldn't come.
Blackwell's jaw tightened. "It wasn't my decision."
I raised a brow, crossing my arms. "Really now?"
He didn't answer, just exhaled sharply, his gaze flicking back to where the princess sat, still laughing with those snakes. We continued talking, stepping outside the greenhouse to escape the lingering stares of the elites. The cool air was a relief-until I caught sight of someone storming toward us.
Golden hair, sharp eyes, and a glare filled with nothing but rage.
"I guess someone's looking for you," I said coldly, watching as Princess Stellamarisse closed the distance.
"Princess, is there a prob-"
A sharp slap cracked through the air before Blackwell could even finish. The sting spread across my cheek, but I didn't flinch. It wasn't pain-it was anger, regret, something twisted deep inside me.
"Princess!" Blackwell immediately caught her wrist as she tried to strike again, holding her back.
"You bastard!" she seethed, struggling against his grip. "You really have the guts to show your face here after everything you did! After everything you did to Zaira Because of you—” 
Blackwell tightened his hold on her before she could say more. “Let me have him, Zion!” she yelled, her voice breaking with fury.
I sighed, my patience thinning. This was pointless. Another scandal was the last thing I needed.
“Apologies for the trouble,” I said smoothly, straightening my coat. "I'll take my leave now.”
I sighed, my patience thinning. This was pointless. Another scandal was the last thing I needed.
“Apologies for the trouble,” I said smoothly, straightening my coat. “I'll take my leave now.”
I bowed slightly, not out of respect, but to put an end to whatever the hell this was. Then, without another word, I walked away.
I shouldn't have come.