Chapter 3The Villainess Who Gathers Scraps

Today was Richmond High's eightieth anniversary gala, opening its doors to alumni and the public.

I was assigned to the welcome committee at the front gates. But once people stepped inside, their eyes immediately locked onto Bella.

"Whoa, why isn't she the one at the front gates? She looks like a literal runway model," a young guy muttered.

Groups of college kids pulled out their phones. One bold girl walked right up to her. "Excuse me, you're gorgeous. Can I get a selfie with you?"

Bella obliged seamlessly, her lips curving into a mathematically perfect, camera-ready smile. It was an angle she had practiced in the mirror a thousand times. She knew exactly how the light hit her cheekbones. After all, when she was twelve, she had chosen the Irresistible Charm perk.

But not everyone bought it. A few older alumni murmured that her smile felt a little too manufactured, a little too hungry for the lens.

Meanwhile, I had inherited Magnetic Warmth. My smiles weren't devastating, but they were genuine. They put people at ease. By the end of the morning, I had naturally charmed half the returning faculty and several notable alumni.

That evening, at the showcase, I took the stage in a flowing, deep crimson dress. I performed a breathtaking contemporary solo, manipulating a massive sweep of red silk that rippled through the air like liquid fire. The auditorium erupted in a standing ovation.

That was the remnant of the Kinetic Grace perk she had rejected at age nine in favor of The Siren's Smile.

"She's incredible! Hey, is she your Prom Queen?" I heard a visiting girl ask her older sister in the crowd.

"Nah, the school's 'It Girl' is someone else."

"Seriously? I saw this girl's name on the academic wall today—she's rank number one. She's smart, stunning, and dances like that. If she’s not the It Girl, who is?"

The older sister pointed across the quad. "See the girl with the waist-length hair holding court with the football team? That’s Bella. She's the undisputed Queen Bee."

"Wow. Okay, she is insanely pretty. Like, ruin-your-life pretty."

"Exactly. That's why she won the title."

"Just because of her face?"

"Pretty much," the sister nodded.

"Are the guys at this school allergic to depth?"

"Hey, don't lump us all together. The girls, and the guys with actual brain cells, voted for Harper. But the school is heavily skewed male, so she lost by a handful of votes."

"Tragic," the younger girl sighed.

"Besides, don't pretend your favorite pop stars are any better. They lip-sync half their sets and look like carbon copies of each other, and you still buy their merch."

The younger girl stuck her tongue out. "You just don't get the vision."

"I really don't want to."

After the curtain fell, I slipped into the wings and texted a video of my routine to Cole.

He must have been holding his phone, because the typing bubble appeared the second the file delivered. Incredible. Harper, you are without a doubt the most impressive person I know.

I burst out laughing in the dressing room.

Harper: You didn't even watch it yet! The video is four minutes long!

Cole: I don't need to watch it to know you killed it.

Harper: I’m taking my makeup off. I’ll text you later.

Cole: Call me when you're walking home. It's dark. I want to make sure you get back safe.

Harper: Deal.

Bella sat in her room next door, convinced she had laid out the perfect trap, waiting for her predestined male lead to walk right into her meticulously manicured snare.

She had no idea the tracks had already been diverted.