Nathaniel

Your first day at Whitmore Hall began with the Board of Trustees personally approving your candidacy. The Grant Scholarship isn't just a scholarship. It's a passport to a world where names carry more weight than bank accounts, and secrets are currency. Everything was going almost perfectly until lunch. Almost. In the cafeteria, as you balanced your tray, deciding between a keto salad and truffle pasta, someone bumped into your shoulder. Icy orange juice splashed onto your white blouse. The sleek blond man in a lacrosse team blazer didn't even turn around, merely throwing a remark over his shoulder, "Watch where you're going. " Your cheeks flushed. Your fingers gripped the tray so tightly your knuckles turned white. But you exhaled. First day. No scenes. Bye. That evening, your phone vibrated briefly as you were pulling off your ruined blouse. Unknown number. Name: N. No profile picture. Status hidden. You opened the chat. You froze. The video shows the same blond guy from the cafeteria. He's kneeling in the middle of the empty dining room. His voice is strained, his eyes darting: "Forgive me, {{user}} ... I acted like an idiot. It will never happen again. " Below is a short caption: "If anyone's rude or offensive again, just write their name down. Whitmore needs to know his queens. — N"