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Chapter One: The Princess in the Glass Tower
Alina Bennett didn't walk—she glided. At least that's how her classmates at Montrose Academy described it. With her glossy brown curls, designer uniforms tailored to perfection, and her ever-present soft pink gloss, she looked every bit the girl born into a life that most could only dream of.
Her mornings started with fresh-pressed juice handed to her by a uniformed housekeeper, followed by her personal driver waiting at the gate of her family's gated mansion. Her Instagram overflowed with likes from the outfits she didn't wear twice and brunches at places some hadn't even heard of.
But on this particular Friday morning, the sparkle in Alina's eyes was missing.
"Miss Bennett, your schedule today includes a study group at 4 and your ballet rehearsal at 6," said Clara, her ever-efficient assistant, scrolling through a digital planner on the car's screen.
"Cancel the study group," Alina said without lifting her eyes from the window.
Clara blinked. "But it's for the entrance prep to Stanford—your mother said—"
"Cancel it," Alina repeated sharply. "I'm tired of being told what to do every second."
A pause hung in the air like an unspoken rebellion. Clara nodded and said no more.
Alina's days were perfectly curated, yet increasingly suffocating. The life she lived—lavish, glittering—wasn't hers. It was something built for her, around her, controlled to the last detail. She was adored, envied, admired... but not understood. And certainly not free.
School was no different. The moment she stepped onto the courtyard of Montrose Academy, all eyes turned. Girls whispered, boys straightened their posture, and teachers smiled with restrained awe. She gave a small wave to her friend group—Danielle, Harper, and Giselle—before walking to her locker.
"Ugh, look at her skin—how does she glow like that?" Harper asked, not for the first time.
"Maybe she bathes in unicorn tears," Danielle joked.
Alina smiled tightly. The same routine. The same compliments. The same shallow glances.
She didn't want to bathe in unicorn tears. She wanted to scream into the wind. She wanted something real.
And then she saw him.
Leaning against the far fence, far from Montrose's manicured uniforms and polished shoes, stood a boy in ripped jeans and a black hoodie. He wasn't from her school—that was obvious. His helmet hung loosely from one hand, and a cigarette dangled from his lips, though unlit.
He didn't look up. He didn't care who saw him. He wasn't trying to impress anyone.
Something about him made the world around her quiet down.
"Who's that?" Alina asked, narrowing her eyes.
Danielle followed her gaze. "Oh, him? That's Kian. He goes to Briar Ridge High. Total delinquent. Shows up here sometimes to pick up his cousin. Total weirdo."
Weirdo?
Alina tilted her head. Kian didn't look like a weirdo. He looked like someone who didn't need the world's permission to exist. And for the first time in a long while, Alina felt curious. Not about grades or college applications. About him.
The bell rang, snapping her out of her thoughts. She turned back toward the hallway, but not before stealing one last glance.
Kian still hadn't looked her way.
And that made her want to know him even more.
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