Chapter 3 — Lianna’s World

Lianna

The tap of Lianna’s heels against the polished marble floor echoed faintly as she made her way through the Elite Wing, the sound a steady metronome in the otherwise hushed corridor. Every step was measured, deliberate, a performance even in solitude. Her reflection followed her in the gilded mirrors lining the walls, every detail of her appearance pristine: golden hair cascading down her back, a silk blouse whispering perfection, and just the faintest sheen of gloss catching the light on her lips. She looked every bit the Queen they expected her to be.

Expected. The word rattled in her mind like an unwelcome guest, its sharp edges digging deeper the longer it lingered.

Pausing in front of one of the wide, arched windows that overlooked the Grand Courtyard, Lianna let her gaze drift downward. Below, Golden Skies unfolded like a well-rehearsed play: students clustered in tight circles, their laughter spilling into the air in carefully modulated tones; scholarship kids darted among them like ghosts, doing their best to remain unseen. The entire scene was a study in appearances—polished, curated, and utterly controlled.

Lianna’s fingers moved instinctively to the pendant around her neck, tracing the familiar engraving. The cool metal pressed against her skin like a warning: *Fortune Favors the Bold.*

From this vantage point, her kingdom looked perfect. Yet a flicker of something bitter rose in her chest—a pang of longing, sharp and insistent. Her gaze caught on the easy laughter of her peers, their smiles unburdened, their lives untouched by the weight that pressed on her shoulders every second of every day. A memory surfaced: a summer as a child, running barefoot through her family’s vineyard, giggling as her nanny chased her down. The air had been warm, fragrant with ripe grapes, and for those fleeting moments, she had been free. That freedom had vanished the day her parents placed the crown of Golden Skies on her head.

The memory soured as Reid Maxwell’s voice echoed in her mind, sharp and defiant. “You’re predictable,” he’d said, those piercing green eyes full of challenge. The word hit her like a blow, making her chest tighten. Predictable. Heavy and accusing, it clung to her like an unwanted shadow. Her fingers gripped the pendant, the metal biting into her palm.

Reid. He was different. That much had been obvious from the moment he arrived—lean, rough-edged, and entirely unpolished in a world of gleaming surfaces. He didn’t belong. And yet...

Lianna straightened, smoothing her blouse with practiced precision. It didn’t matter why Reid Maxwell was here or what he thought he could accomplish. He was a disruption, a crack in the surface of her carefully ordered world. And cracks, no matter how small, had to be smoothed over before they spread.

The sound of approaching footsteps broke her thoughts. Hayes appeared at the far end of the corridor, his broad frame commanding the space. His tailored blazer clung to his shoulders, the sharp shine of his signet ring catching the light as he adjusted his cufflinks. Everything about him exuded dominance, a presence that demanded attention whether it was wanted or not.

“Lianna,” he greeted, his voice low and smooth, though the familiar undercurrent of control laced his tone.

“Hayes.” She kept her response cool, neutral, as she turned to face him.

He reached her in a few long strides, his sharp blue eyes scanning her face. “What’s this I hear about some scholarship kid mouthing off in your presence?”

Of course. The rumor mill at Golden Skies worked faster than most news outlets. She let her lips curve into a faint smile, though it didn’t reach her eyes. “Hardly worth mentioning,” she said lightly. “He’s new. Doesn’t know the rules yet.”

Hayes’ jaw tightened, the muscle ticking as he processed her response. “Doesn’t know, or doesn’t care to learn?”

“Does it matter?” She tilted her head, feigning disinterest. “If he steps out of line again, he’ll learn the hard way. You know how this works.”

His expression softened slightly, but the calculating edge in his gaze remained. “You shouldn’t have to deal with that kind of disrespect. Say the word, and I’ll handle it.”

Lianna hesitated for the briefest moment, her fingers brushing the edge of her pendant as unease crept in. Hayes’ version of “handling” things rarely left room for subtlety. She thought of Reid, of his defiance and the sharp wit that refused to bend. Would Hayes crush that with his typical ruthlessness? The thought unsettled her. It wasn’t that she couldn’t deal with Reid herself—it was that she hadn’t decided yet if he was worth the effort. Or the risk.

“I said I’ll handle it,” she replied, her voice firm and steady, leaving no room for argument.

Hayes leaned closer, his tone dropping. “Remember, Lianna, you’re at the top for a reason. Don’t let anyone forget that.”

Her smile didn’t falter, but an icy knot twisted in her chest. She waited until Hayes turned and walked away before exhaling softly, tension easing from her shoulders like a vice loosening its grip. The faint warmth of her pendant pressed into her palm as she toyed with it again, turning it over to feel the engraved words. *Fortune Favors the Bold.* But boldness wasn’t what Hayes wanted from her—it was compliance, masked as strength.

The faint chime of her phone pulled her attention, and she retrieved it from her pocket. Her brows furrowed slightly at the message on the screen.

Cecelia: *Meeting in the Glass Hall tonight. Don’t be late.*

Of course. Another gathering, another performance. The Glass Hall was their domain, its grandeur a fitting backdrop for the displays of power that defined their clique. The meetings were carefully choreographed, every word and gesture designed to reinforce control. Failure to play her part would be unacceptable.

Lianna slipped the phone back into her pocket and resumed her walk down the corridor, her steps steady once more. She had always been good at this—balancing the expectations of her peers, her parents, and the school itself. But lately, the weight of it all felt heavier, pressing down on her in ways she couldn’t quite explain.

Reid Maxwell’s voice echoed in her mind again, unbidden and unwelcome. “You’re predictable,” he’d said, his tone cutting and sardonic. And then, quieter, almost like a challenge: “Boldness will only get you so far.”

Predictable. The word struck a nerve, pricking at something raw beneath the surface. She quickened her pace, as if moving faster might outrun the memory.

By the time she reached her room, the familiar ache of exhaustion had settled in her bones. She stepped through the grand oak doors, the faint scent of expensive cologne and leather greeting her like an old habit. The space was immaculate, every detail carefully curated to reflect her status: the plush bedding, the ornate furniture, the framed portraits of ancestors staring down at her with cold, judgmental eyes. Yet, on her nightstand sat a small, chipped music box—an incongruous relic of her childhood, its worn edges a stark contrast to the perfection surrounding it.

Lianna crossed to her vanity, her reflection staring back at her from the gilded mirror. For a moment, she studied her own face—the flawless makeup, the perfectly styled hair, the mask of confidence she wore so well. And yet, beneath the surface, cracks were forming.

Her fingers reached up, brushing against the gold pendant once more. She turned it over in her hand, tracing the engraved words with a light touch. *Fortune Favors the Bold.*

But what did boldness even mean anymore? Maintaining control? Refusing to let anyone see her weaknesses? Or was it something deeper—something more dangerous?

Her thoughts wandered again, unbidden, to green eyes and a leather jacket. To the way Reid Maxwell seemed to defy everything this place stood for, cutting through the veneer of control with blunt honesty. It was irritating. Intriguing. And completely irrelevant.

Lianna straightened, the flicker of doubt buried beneath the weight of discipline. She had a performance to give, a role to play. Anything else would have to wait.

The weight of the crown might be heavy, but she wasn’t ready to let it slip. Not yet.