Chapter 1

The whispers hit Élise like a cold wind the moment her foot touched the cobblestones. A cluster of girls by the fountain stopped mid-sentence, their eyes sliding over her—then away, too quickly. Near the oak tree, a group of boys snickered behind their hands. One of them said her name. She heard it clearly.

*Élise Moreau.*

She clutched her satchel strap and kept walking, chin lowered, the yellowed chestnut leaves crunching beneath her shoes. *Did she forget something? Was her blouse inside out?* She ran a quick hand over her collar. No. Fine.

Then the intercom crackled, static slicing through the autumn air.

"Élise Moreau, please report to the headmaster's office. Immediately."

Her stomach dropped. Around her, the whispers sharpened into something hungrier. She felt the weight of forty stares pressing into her back as she crossed the courtyard, and when she passed Camille Lefèvre—perched on a stone balustrade like a porcelain doll in designer wool—the smile that curled across Camille's glossed lips was slow and deliberate.

Élise looked away. She had to.

The headmaster's office smelled of old paper and leather. Monsieur Delacroix sat behind his heavy mahogany desk, spectacles low on his nose, and he did not ask her to sit.

"This was found in your locker," he said, sliding a single sheet of paper across the desk. A printed answer sheet for the chemistry midterm—the one they hadn't taken yet. Her name was typed at the top. "Explain yourself."

Her throat closed. "I've never seen this. I don't— I wouldn't—"

"Twenty students saw you at your locker this morning." His voice was flat, final. "The evidence is clear."

The door was still open. In the hallway, Nathan Lefèvre stood with his arms crossed, his dark eyes fixed on her. Not with hate—but with something worse. Suspicion. Judgment. The quiet certainty of a brother who has already chosen a side.

Élise looked at the paper again. At the perfect, damning neatness of her name.

Someone had done this. *Deliberately.*

And as the cold shock of injustice bloomed in her chest, she realized—she had no idea how to prove she was innocent.

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*Was Élise too naive to see the social dynamics at play? Or is this just the beginning of something darker? Let us know in the comments.*