By lunch, I had officially lost my appetite.
Which was tragic, because Westbridge's cafeteria looked like a five-star hotel buffet. Glass displays. Fresh pastries. Food arranged like art.
And I was sitting there with a tray I hadn't touched, rereading the same gossip post over and over like it might magically change.
It didn't.
If anything, it got worse.
New comments kept popping up:
"She planned this."
"Check her background."
"Security needs to do better."
Security?
Like I was a threat?
"I swear these people need hobbies," Maya muttered, sliding into the seat across from me. She popped a fry into her mouth. "Or therapy."
"Or basic human decency," I said weakly.
She leaned closer. "Okay, damage control. Step one: you do not cry in public. These people treat tears like sport."
"I'm not going to cry."
My voice wobbled.
She winced. "Okay, but if you do, at least make it dramatic so they feel bad later."
I almost smiled.
Almost.
Before I could say anything else, a shadow fell across our table.
I looked up.
One of the academy staff stood there in a navy blazer, posture stiff, expression unreadable.
"Lara Bennett?"
My stomach dropped straight through the floor. "Yes?"
"The principal would like to see you. Now."
Maya slowly lowered her fry. "That's never a good sentence."
"I didn't do anything," I said quickly, panic rising in my chest.
The staff member gave a tight, polite smile. "Please bring your phone."
My phone?!
The entire cafeteria had gone quiet again. I could feel eyes drilling into my back as I stood.
This was it. Expelled on day two. Record broken.
"Text me if you survive," Maya whispered.
"Not funny."
"A little funny."
I walked out anyway.
The principal's office was on the top floor of the administration building — because of course it was. Everything important here had to be elevated, literally and socially.
My palms were sweating by the time I knocked.
"Come in."
I stepped inside.
Principal Hawthorne sat behind a massive wooden desk that probably cost more than my house. Beside him stood a woman in a sleek gray suit, posture sharp, expression sharper.
I didn't recognize her.
But I knew she didn't work here.
"Miss Bennett," the principal said, folding his hands. "Please, sit."
I perched on the edge of the chair like it might eject me.
The woman studied me carefully, like I was a puzzle she didn't like.
"This is Ms. Davenport," the principal continued. "She represents the Royal Household."
Oh.
Oh no.
I sat up straighter so fast my back cracked.
"I—I didn't mean to cause trouble," I rushed out. "I didn't know who he was when I first talked to him, and we were just studying, and I swear I didn't call the press or post anything—"
Ms. Davenport raised one perfectly shaped eyebrow. "We are aware you did not take the photograph."
I blinked. "You are?"
"We have people who look into these things," she said smoothly.
Of course they did.
Principal Hawthorne cleared his throat. "Lara, Westbridge values its relationship with the Crown. Situations like this can become… complicated."
Complicated.
That was a very elegant word for your life might be ruined.
"I understand, sir," I said quietly.
Ms. Davenport stepped forward slightly. "His Highness is under constant public scrutiny. Friendships are often misinterpreted. We simply want to ensure you are not… overwhelmed."
Overwhelmed?
I almost laughed. I'd been overwhelmed since I stepped through the gates.
"I can handle myself," I said, even though my voice came out smaller than I meant.
Her gaze softened — just a fraction. "I hope so. Because this attention will not disappear overnight."
Principal Hawthorne slid my phone across the desk. I hadn't even noticed when they took it from my hand earlier.
"We expect students here to behave with discretion," he said. "No interviews. No social media engagement regarding the Prince. No encouraging speculation."
"I haven't posted anything," I said quickly.
"And you must continue not to," he replied.
Ms. Davenport tilted her head. "Tell me, Miss Bennett… what are your intentions with Prince Adrian?"
The question hit harder than I expected.
Intentions?
Like I was applying for a position?
"I don't have any," I said honestly. "We just talked. That's all."
She held my gaze for a long moment, like she was measuring the truth in my face.
Finally, she nodded once. "See that it stays simple."
Simple.
Nothing about this felt simple.
"You're not in trouble," Principal Hawthorne added, though it sounded like a warning disguised as reassurance. "But we are watching the situation closely."
Translation: One wrong step and you're gone.
I stood on shaky legs. "May I go to class?"
"Yes," he said.
As I reached the door, Ms. Davenport spoke again.
"Miss Bennett."
I turned.
"Be careful," she said softly. "The palace is not the only place with walls."
I didn't understand what she meant.
But the way she said it made my chest feel tight all over again.
When I stepped back into the hallway, my phone buzzed instantly.
A new post.
A new photo.
This one taken from outside the administration building.
Me.
Walking into the principal's office.
Caption:
"Scholarship girl called in after royal scandal 👀 Trouble in paradise already?"
My hands started shaking.
They weren't just watching Adrian.
They were watching me now too.
And somehow, without meaning to…
I had stepped into a game where I didn't even know the rules.