Celia walked through the grand hallways of Vermillion Private School, her steps poised, calculated. The hushed whispers of students lingered behind her like an aftershock, but she paid them no mind. She had always drawn attention. That was nothing new.
What mattered now was him.
Damien.
Her emerald-green eyes flickered with cold determination. She had waited long enough. Vivienne may have barred her from the Elford estate, but here? In this school? There were no walls, no guards, no one to keep her away.
Celia would find him. And when she did—he would answer to her.
Her heels clicked against the polished marble floors as she approached the 4-A classroom, the designated location for their homeroom. The corridors were flooded with students exchanging greetings, slipping into their classrooms, discussing upcoming coursework.
None of them mattered.
She arrived at the large wooden doors of Class 4-A and stopped.
He wasn't here yet.
