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Chapter 21: A Party Called Ivy. I'm In.
"Dong."
The grand antique clock in Stephen's mansion chimed as the front door creaked open. Hannah stepped in, the click of her black heels echoing against the marble floor. The scent of lavender and expensive wood polish filled the air. Stephen, sprawled across a velvet rug with a glass of sparkling apple juice and a playlist of soft indie pop humming in the background, quickly stood up.
"Oh my God. I'm so sorry," she said, startled. "We can try again, okay? We can do another session. You can still make up for—"
Hannah raised a hand to silence her. "Yale rejected me," she said flatly.
Stephen's breath caught in her throat. She took a step forward, arms half-raised in sympathy.
"Don't," Hannah snapped, taking a step back. "Don't touch me. And definitely don't pity me."
The atmosphere shifted. The soft hum of music felt suffocating. Stephen's mouth opened but no words came out.
Hannah turned toward the fireplace. Flames danced in perfect synchronization, automated and perfect—like everything in Stephen's life. The walls of the room were lined with modern art and towering bookshelves, but tonight, they offered no comfort.
"It's not just NK," Hannah said, turning to Stephen, her blue eyes burning. "It's all of them. Sofia, Clowe, Nick, Sage. Every last one of those entitled, champagne-bred parasites. They watched me burn—and did nothing."
Her voice trembled with restrained fury. She tugged her long black hair behind her shoulders, revealing sharp cheekbones and smudged eyeliner. Her outfit screamed power: black crop top, matching skirt, and combat boots. She looked like a CEO on the verge of a hostile takeover.
"I've lost everything," Hannah said. "My future, my dream, my Yale. All because of that stupid article and a bunch of so-called friends who let it happen."
Stephen remained silent, holding her drink, brows furrowed.
"What are you saying?" Stephen asked carefully. "You want to go after all of them?"
Hannah grinned—not the sweet smile Stephen was used to, but something darker. "That's exactly what I'm saying."
She started to pace like a predator caged too long. "They need to understand what it feels like to lose. To be humiliated. To have everything they built reduced to ash. One by one. Brick by brick. I'm going to take them apart."
Stephen blinked. "This… sounds like war."
Hannah nodded, her voice low and cold. "And guess what? I'm done playing defense."
She stepped closer. "Tell me you got into at least one Ivy League school."
Stephen hesitated, then smirked. "Brown… and Columbia."
Hannah smiled like a wolf. "Perfect."
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The Next Morning
Stephen's outfit was spotless. Burgundy lipstick, ironed uniform, and a silk scarf tucked just right. She walked into the cafeteria like she owned it, the golden sunlight bouncing off her shiny boots.
Sofia, Clowe, and Sage sat at their usual table, sipping matcha lattes and laughing over some Ivy League meme. Matching leather jackets. Matching smugness.
Stephen strutted over. "Brown and Columbia, bitches."
They all gasped, eyes wide with surprise and admiration. Sofia clutched her pearls—literally.
"Well, look who's joining the Ivy elite," Clowe grinned. "Should we tell her?"
"Tell me what?" Stephen asked, playing coy.
Sage leaned in. "Every year, there's the party. Ivy-only. No social media. No outsiders. No phones. It's a tradition."
Stephen's heart quickened. She already knew what they were talking about—Hannah had told her everything.
"Admissions Night," Clowe said with sparkle in her voice. "Phones are surrendered at the gate. It's full-on madness."
"Only way in?" Sofia added. "Your Ivy acceptance letter. It's proof you're one of us."
Stephen grinned. "I'm in."
She imagined the chaos to come. The humiliation. The trap they were unknowingly walking into.
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Later That Evening – Back at Stephen's House
Stephen stared into the mirror, wiping off her lipstick. Behind her, Hannah lounged in the shadows, sipping dark wine from a glass she didn't even ask for.
"What about NK?" Stephen asked.
Hannah's expression turned to stone. "He's mine."
Stephen turned fully toward her. "You're going to…?"
"Not kill him," Hannah interrupted. "Not really."
She stood, crossing the room slowly. "But I'm going to get a confession out of him. A real one. No jokes. No twisted PR spin. Just truth. Recorded, public, undeniable."
Hannah looked into Stephen's eyes. "He leaked that video. And I'm going to make sure everyone knows it."
Then she placed her hands gently on Stephen's shoulders. "So what do you say, pal? Ready to help me burn it all down?"
Stephen inhaled. For a second, she remembered freshman year. Innocent days. But that was gone now.
She smiled. "I'm in."
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Upstairs, Above the Cafeteria
Hannah stood watching through the glass, her arms crossed, her mind already calculating every move. Below, the girls laughed and welcomed Stephen like one of their own.
They had no idea what was coming.
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