Sienna Maxton moved through the hallways of Ashford Elite Academy like a ghost with a pulse—present enough to cast a shadow, absent enough that no one ever felt the need to talk to it.

The whispers had started before first period. By lunch, they'd become a roar. And now, in the aftermath of whatever the hell had happened in the parking lot, the whole school had transformed into one massive gossip machine with her cousin's name on everyone's lips.

"Did you see what Phei did to Sierra?"

"Bro, he SLAPPED Brett. Like, actually slapped him. Open palm. Full commitment."

"The charity case? OUR charity case?"

Sienna heard it all. Processed none of it.

She walked with her phone in hand, scrolling through nothing, her face arranged in that expression she'd perfected over years of practice—the one that said I'm not here, don't talk to me, and I literally could not care less all at once. It was her default setting. Her armor. Her "fuck off" in polite society language.

A girl from History—Madison? Morgan? She wasn't sure, did not care—appeared at her elbow, vibrating with the need to share.

"Sienna! Oh my god, did you hear about your cousin? He literally dominated Sierra Montgomery in the hallway, and then in the parking lot—"

"Don't care."

Two words. Flat. Final. Delivered without looking up.

Madison-Morgan-Whatever stumbled to a halt, watching Sienna's back as she continued without breaking stride.

Another attempt thirty seconds later. A boy this time.

"Yo, Sienna, your cousin's going viral! That fight was—"

She walked past him like he was furniture.

The whispers followed her like a second shadow.

"What's her deal?" "Cold as fuck, honestly." "Does she even have emotions?" "Literally no one knows her."

They weren't wrong.

No one knew Sienna Maxton. She existed in this grey area between presence and absence—physically there but emotionally checked out. Cold? Maybe. Dismissive? Definitely. Indifferent? Closest word, but even that didn't capture it.

She'd built a glass wall between herself and the world. Everything on the other side was muted. Distant. Happening to people in a reality she wasn't participating in.

Some thought she was a bitch. Others thought shy. A few theorised depression, or trauma, or anything that let them categorize her.

She just existed. Moved through days like water through a pipe. The only time she seemed alive was when doing something to Phei.

And even then, it was strange.

She'd say something cutting, something cruel. And then immediately after—a flicker. Micro-expression that looked almost like regret. Like she'd spoken lines she'd been handed rather than words she'd chosen.

And then Sienna went back to not being there.

The hallway opened ahead. Students clustered in groups, still buzzing about the fight.

Her path took her directly through the center.

Directly toward Sierra Montgomery.

The Hell Queen stood with her entourage, though her composure was notably absent. Eyes red-rimmed. Makeup touched up but not well enough. Burgundy scarf askew. She kept touching her wrists like they remembered being pinned.

Her friends clustered protectively, shooting glares, projecting nothing happened, everything's fine.

Sienna walked straight toward them.

Not around. Not with any acknowledgment. Just forward, phone in hand, eyes on screen.

Sierra's group noticed. Shifted. Expected her to adjust course like everyone else did.

Sienna didn't adjust.

She walked directly into their formation. Shoulder first. Her frame was taller than Sierra's, more athletic—genetics and swimming had given her a build most girls envied.

That shoulder connected with Sierra's.

Not hard enough to knock her over. Not soft enough to be accidental.

Just enough to send her stumbling sideways, catching herself on a friend's arm.

"What the—"

Sierra's voice came sharp. Outraged.

Sienna kept walking. Didn't look back. Didn't break stride. Thumb swiped up—TikTok, someone's cat video—as if nothing had happened.

"Hey! SIENNA!"

Students watching now. More whispers. More phones.

Sierra's face flushed red. Hands clenched. She stepped forward—

A friend caught her arm.

"She's Sienna Maxton, remember?" the friend whispered. "Don't."

The reminder hit like cold water. Sienna was Main Legacy. Same tier. Normal rules didn't apply. Not just because Sienna was a legacy, Sierra was too, but because this was Sienna. And not many girls crossed her paths.

And maybe Sierra had momentarily forgotten that but her friend was there to remind her... thankfully!

Sierra seethed. Actually seethed, whole body vibrating.

But Sienna was already gone. Turning the corner. Disappearing into the flow like she'd never been there.

Just a ghost with a pulse.

She didn't look back. Didn't need to.

The hallway kept whispering.

And Sienna kept not caring.

At least... not out loud.

And then she stopped.

Three feet ahead, blocking her path without meaning to, stood Maya Scarlett.

The girl had been walking the opposite direction, probably heading toward whatever drama was still unfolding in the parking lot aftermath. Dark hair. Brown eyes with those strange gold flecks that caught the light like hidden coins.

The kind of face that was pretty without trying to be, which made it more annoying somehow—because effortlessness always feels like an insult to those who work hard to be invisible.

They faced each other in the middle of the hallway.

Students flowed around them like water around two stones, the crowd instinctively giving space to whatever was happening even if they didn't understand it. Phones were out, but no one dared zoom in too close. Not yet.

One second.

Something crossed between them. Some unspoken thing that lived in the space between their eyes. Not hostility exactly. Not friendship. Something older and stranger and impossible to name—like two predators recognizing the same territory, deciding whether to fight or just acknowledge the shared scars.

Two seconds.

Maya's expression flickered—curiosity, maybe, or recognition. Sienna's didn't—but something behind her eyes shifted anyway, a crack in the glass wall she wore like armor.

Three seconds.

Sienna scoffed. Quiet. Dismissive. The sound of someone who'd weighed you and found you uninteresting.

Maya snorted. Equally quiet. Equally dismissive. The sound of someone returning the exact same verdict.

They walked past each other without another glance. Without words. Without acknowledgment that the moment had happened at all.

Just two girls who'd measured each other in three seconds and decided not to bother.

Whatever history existed there—whatever tension or rivalry or complicated past—stayed buried where they'd both agreed to keep it.

Sienna kept walking.

Her phone buzzed. Someone tagged her in a post about the fight.

Sienna dismissed it without reading.

Kept walking.

The whispers continued, mixing her name with her cousin's, wondering what the Maxtons would do.

She didn't have answers.

She barely had questions.

Sienna Maxton existed in the margins of her own life, and today was no different.

The curiosity had been there... unexpected. Unwelcome. She'd pushed it down, buried it under familiar indifference.

But it had been there.

And some quiet part of her knew it would be back.

The thing about being invisible was that you saw everything.

Sienna had perfected the art of not being noticed while noticing everyone else. She knew which couples were secretly hooking up in the third-floor study rooms.

Which students cheated on tests with answers written on the inside of water bottle labels. Which teachers were having affairs with the kind of discretion that only made the gossip louder. Which Legacy kids had drug problems their families were desperately covering up with "vacations" and "rehab retreats."

She knew because no one watched their words around the girl who wasn't really there.

And she knew things about Phei too.

Things the rest of the family didn't bother to see because they'd stopped looking at him years ago.

She'd noticed how he always positioned himself near exits, like he was ready to bolt at the first sign of trouble. How his eyes tracked threats before they materialized. How he flinched at sudden movements but tried to hide it.

How he ate quickly, like food might be taken away if he didn't finish fast enough.

She'd noticed the way he looked at their mother sometimes—not with hatred, but with something more complicated. Something that looked almost like desperate hope, even after all these years.

She'd noticed, and she'd done nothing.

Because that's what Sienna did. Noticed things. Filed them away. Let them gather dust in the archives of her mind while she continued existing in her careful, cultivated emptiness.

But today felt different.

Today, the charity case had stopped being invisible.

And something about that made Sienna feel... exposed. Like if he could break free of his role, then her role wasn't as fixed as she'd believed. Like change was possible even in Paradise, even in the Maxton family, even for people who'd been assigned their place in the hierarchy before they were old enough to object.

The thought was uncomfortable.

She buried it like she buried everything else.

But it didn't stay buried quite as deep as usual.

And somewhere in the back of her mind, a small, dark part of her wondered what would happen if she stopped being the ghost.

Just for a second.

Just to see what it felt like to cast a shadow instead of being one.

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