"Have you heard? The Hall family's making it clear—anyone who dares attend Seraphina's birthday party will be considered their enemy." "In Pyrin, the Hall family practically runs the city. With them saying this, Seraphina's party is sure to be a disaster." "Is your family going?" someone asked. "Probably not. We've got business ties with the Halls, so we can't afford to risk it." "What about yours?" "Not sure yet." … As Seraphina walked along the shaded paths of Bloomington School, it was impossible to miss the buzz of gossip. The whispers followed her, carried on the wind like ripples in a pond. Only a few days ago, the students swarmed around her, eager to catch her attention, their smiles and compliments as constant as the sun. Now, they hung back, avoiding her entirely, yet still unable to look away. Their glances came from a distance, cautious and filled with curiosity. Not far from the main walkway, Yvonne stood under the sprawling shade of an oak tree. A group of students had just finished tormenting her, and as they sauntered away, she was left behind, her hair a tangled mess and her clothes stained with dirt. The humiliation was written across her face. Yvonne's torment had begun the moment Seraphina won the competition. Kelly and her clique, embittered by Seraphina's victory, had given Molly and the others free rein to make Yvonne's life unbearable. Every day since had been a fresh nightmare for her, a spiral of cruelty that seemed to have no end. In her mind, every bit of it was Seraphina's fault. If Seraphina hadn't triumphed, if she hadn't dared to humiliate Kelly and her friends, Yvonne wouldn't be suffering now. She was paying for Seraphina's defiance, enduring pain that wasn't hers to bear. Her eyes burned with resentment as she glared at Seraphina from across the courtyard. Evelyn, walking beside Seraphina, felt the weight of something sharp behind her. She turned her head slightly, her gaze zeroing in on Yvonne, who stood frozen on a small hill nearby. Yvonne hadn't expected Evelyn's sharp awareness, and her expression betrayed her—a venomous mix of jealousy and spite flickering across her face before she could mask it. "Seraphina," Evelyn murmured, her voice low but clear, "do you know her?" Seraphina followed Evelyn's gaze, her expression as calm as still water. "Yeah," she replied simply. "She's just an ungrateful wretch." Evelyn nodded slowly, the tension easing from her posture as understanding settled over her. "That explains the look she gave you. She's bad news. You should watch out." Yvonne faltered under the weight of their combined stares. Panic took hold, and she turned on her heel, stumbling as she hurried away, her retreat as clumsy as her appearance.As the figure disappeared into the distance, Evelyn broke the silence. "She's trouble," she muttered, her tone light but her eyes serious. Seraphina said nothing, her gaze lingering thoughtfully on the spot where Yvonne had stood. "Your birthday's coming up this Saturday. What do you want? I'll get it for you," Evelyn asked with a bright smile, her tone lighthearted. "Anything?" Seraphina tilted her head, her dazzling eyes glinting playfully as they locked onto Evelyn. Evelyn thumped her chest confidently. "Of course. Name it, and it's yours." A mischievous curve formed on Seraphina's lips. "A total makeover—edgy hairstyle, daring clothes. I want to see a completely different side of you." Evelyn froze, her usual composure faltering for just a moment. A shadow of sadness flickered in her eyes, subtle but unmistakable. She forced a smile, shaking her head softly. "Pick something else."Seraphina shook her head in return, her voice gentle. "There's nothing else I want. But don't feel pressured—it was just a passing thought. Do what feels right for you." For the first time, Seraphina saw something deeper beneath Evelyn's cool demeanor, a glimpse of an unspoken sorrow. The idea of uncovering Evelyn's past tugged at her curiosity. She'd always assumed her friend's bold style was just an expression of youthful rebellion—after all, who didn't go through such a phase? But now, it seemed there was more to the story. … In Duskmire, Thomas stepped off the set, his assistant immediately rushing to his side with a chilled water bottle and a small handheld fan. He took the water with a nod, the rhythmic hum of the fan filling the space as they walked to his trailer. Once inside, he sank into the plush leather seat, taking a moment to exhale the weight of the day. With a flick of his hand, he dismissed the assistant and then picked up his phone. Scrolling through his feed without much interest, his thumb paused abruptly. A simple post caught his attention. It wasn't flashy or loud, but something about it stood out. Seraphina, 'Looking forward to Saturday. It's my birthday.' The words were plain, yet they carried an unmistakable warmth, a quiet anticipation that felt genuine. His gaze shifted to the accompanying image. Against a stark black background, a single red rose stood out, vivid and alluring. But the beauty of the bloom was marred—two blood-streaked hands were captured mid-motion, violently snapping the fragile stem in half. Thomas frowned, leaning closer to the screen. The image struck him in two ways. Artistically, it was bold and evocative, the kind of photograph that lingered in one's mind long after the first glance. But there was something darker beneath the artistry, a sinister undertone that sent an inexplicable chill down his spine, leaving him uneasy.