His Stolen Kiss, Her Lethal Cure

Gorge's hand shot out. He snatched the phone off the table, his fingers gripping the metal casing so tightly his knuckles turned white.

He brought the screen inches from his face. His eyes darted back and forth, scanning the digital watermark, the official school seal, the Headmaster's signature.

His chest rose and fell in rapid, shallow breaths.

"Let me see that," Mavis demanded, leaning over Gorge's shoulder.

She squinted at the screen. Her perfectly manicured nails dug into the back of Gorge's chair.

"This is fake," Mavis shrieked, her voice pitching into a hysterical octave. "It has to be! Gorge, look at it. It's a PDF. Anyone with a computer can make a PDF."

Geri stood up, her chair scraping loudly. Her face was pale, her eyes wide with a frantic, ugly jealousy.

"Elia," Geri said, her voice trembling with barely contained panic. "Forging academic documents is a felony in New York State. You could go to prison for this. Why would you do something so stupid?"

Gorge slammed the phone face-down onto the mahogany table. The loud smack echoed off the high ceilings.

He stood up, towering over the table. He pointed a shaking finger directly at Elia.

"Where did you get this?" Gorge snarled, his face twisted in fury. "Which cheap hacker did you pay to mock this up? Or worse..." His eyes dragged up and down Elia's simple clothes, his lip curling in disgust. "Who did you sleep with to get someone to make this for you?"

The air in the room turned to ice.

Elia's eyes went completely dead. The flat, detached look vanished, replaced by a dark, suffocating pressure.

She took one step forward.

The movement was slow, but the sheer predatory weight behind it made Gorge instinctively take a half-step back. His heel hit the leg of his chair.

Elia picked up her phone. She checked the screen. No cracks.

She slipped it back into her pocket.

"Watch your mouth," Elia said. Her voice was a low, guttural whisper that carried across the room like a physical threat. "I am only staying in this house until I turn eighteen. Do not give me a reason to burn it down before then."

Geri whimpered, shrinking back behind Mavis.

Mavis opened her mouth to scream for security.

Ding-dong.

The sharp, melodic chime of the front doorbell cut through the heavy tension.

Everyone froze.

The butler hurried past the dining room, his shoes clicking rapidly on the marble floor.

Gorge took a deep breath, smoothing his tie, forcing the red flush of anger from his face. He assumed it was a business associate. He couldn't afford to look unhinged.

Mavis quickly patted her hair, pasting on a tight, artificial smile.

The heavy front door opened.

"Good morning," a smooth, professional male voice echoed from the foyer. "I am looking for Miss Elia Chapman."

Gorge frowned. He walked out of the dining room, Mavis and Geri trailing closely behind him. Elia stayed where she was, her face completely blank.

Standing in the foyer was a tall man in a sharp, charcoal-grey suit. He wore gold-rimmed glasses and carried a thick, leather briefcase.

Through the open front door, a gleaming black Rolls-Royce Phantom idled in the driveway.

Gorge immediately recognized the aura of extreme wealth and power. He stepped forward, extending his hand with a practiced, eager smile.

"I am Gorge Chapman. How can I help you, sir?"

The man looked at Gorge's outstretched hand. He didn't take it.

"I am Mr. Vance," the man said, his tone polite but entirely dismissive. "Dean of Admissions at Manhattan Elite Prep."

Gorge's hand dropped to his side. His jaw went slack.

Mavis gasped, her hand flying to her chest.

Geri stared at the man, her eyes bulging.

Mr. Vance looked past them. He spotted Elia standing in the dining room doorway in her cheap jeans and white T-shirt.

Mr. Vance walked right past Gorge. He stopped three feet in front of Elia.

He snapped his briefcase open. He pulled out a heavy, cream-colored envelope sealed with red wax and stamped with the gold crest of Elite Prep.

To the absolute horror of the Chapman family, Mr. Vance bowed his head slightly.

He held the envelope out to Elia with both hands.

"Miss Chapman," Mr. Vance said, his voice ringing with deep respect. "The Headmaster sends his regards. Your official physical enrollment file. We eagerly anticipate your arrival on campus tomorrow."

Elia looked at the envelope. She reached out and took it.

She didn't say thank you. She didn't smile.

"Is there a mistake?" Mavis blurted out, her voice cracking. She lunged forward, pointing at Geri. "My daughter Geri is the student at Elite Prep! This girl is a dropout! She has no records!"

Mr. Vance turned his head slowly. He looked at Mavis over the rim of his gold glasses. His eyes were cold and dead.

"The Headmaster does not make mistakes, Mrs. Chapman," Mr. Vance said flatly.

He turned back to Elia, gave one last nod, and walked out the door.

The Rolls-Royce pulled away, leaving a deafening silence in the foyer.

Elia tapped the thick envelope against her thigh. She looked at Gorge, whose face was now the color of ash.

"Looks like my forgery held up," Elia mocked softly.

She turned and walked up the sweeping staircase, leaving them drowning in their own shock.

Down in the foyer, Geri's fingernails dug into her palms so hard they drew blood. She pulled out her phone, her hands shaking with rage. She opened her group chat with the Elite Prep mean girls.

My psycho adopted sister is coming to school tomorrow. We need to destroy her.

Across Manhattan, in a penthouse overlooking Central Park, Kane Wolf sat in a leather chair.

He stared at a glowing monitor. A red dot blinked over the location of Manhattan Elite Prep.

His special assistant, Lex, walked into the room, shedding the tailored charcoal-grey suit jacket he had worn just moments ago in the Chapman foyer.

"The file is delivered, Boss," Lex reported. "She took the bait."

Kane's thumb traced his lower lip. He remembered the taste of rain and blood.

"Good," Kane murmured, a dark smile spreading across his face. "Let's see what she does next."