She found me the next morning before first period.

I was at my locker when I heard the footsteps — deliberate, not hurried — and then she was beside me.

Serena Walsh.

I'd seen her in the hallway before without knowing her name.

Dark hair, expensive earrings, the kind of composure that gets practiced in front of mirrors.

"Emily Carter," she said, like she was confirming something.

"That's me."

"I heard you've been asking about me."

I closed my locker.

"I heard you told Madison my last name before I introduced myself to anyone."

She smiled.

Not Madison's sharp, performative smile.

Something quieter and more considered.

"I went to camp with Madison two summers ago.

We talk.

I mentioned you were enrolling.

That's not a crime."

"You also told her who my father was."

"Everyone knows who your father is."

"Not everyone set up a welcome like that."

The smile stayed exactly where it was.

"I don't know what you think I did.

Madison made her own choices."

"She did," I said.

"And now her father's lost a forty-million-dollar contract and she's facing suspension.

Those were her choices.

But someone handed her the idea."

Serena tilted her head slightly.

"You sound like your father."

"I'll take that."

"It wasn't a compliment."

"I know."

She studied me for a moment.

The smile faded by a degree.

"My mother has been trying to get a meeting with Carter Development for three years," she said.

"Every proposal she submits gets routed to a junior associate and rejected inside a week.

She's good at what she does.

Better than half the people your father actually works with.

She just doesn't have the right last name."

"So you decided to make my first week here as miserable as possible."

"I decided to let Madison be Madison.

I didn't pour anything on anyone."

"You handed her a reason to."

Serena looked at me steadily.

"Your father closes doors on people like my mother every day and never thinks about it twice.

I wanted you to know what it feels like to walk into a room and have everyone decide who you are before you open your mouth."

The hallway was filling up around us.

Students moving past, glancing over.

"I already knew what that felt like," I said.

"That's why I didn't take the car."

Something shifted in her expression.

Just slightly.

"It didn't work out the way you planned," I said.

"Madison is suspended.

Your name is going to come up in the disciplinary review — Ryan heard you tell her.

And my father now knows that someone at this school had a reason to want me humiliated on day one."

Serena's composure held, but her jaw tightened.

"Are you threatening me?"

"I'm telling you what's already in motion.

There's a difference."

She was quiet for a moment.

"What do you want?" she said finally.

"I want to know if your mother's proposals were actually good."

That she hadn't expected.

The composure slipped — just for a second, just enough.

"What?"

"If her work is as strong as you say, I want to see it.

I'm not my father.

I don't make his decisions.

But I can ask him to look at something himself instead of routing it to a junior associate."

Serena stared at me.

"Why would you do that?"

"Because if she's been shut out unfairly, that's worth fixing.

And because I'd rather do this than spend the next two years watching my back in the hallways."

The bell rang.

Students streamed past us.

Serena didn't move.

"I'll think about it," she said.

"That's fine." I picked up my bag.

"But Serena — if anything like last week happens again, I won't be coming to you first.

I'll be going straight to my father with everything Ryan heard.

Including your name."

I walked to class.

She didn't follow.

But at the end of the day, there was an envelope in my locker.

Inside was a business card — *Walsh Commercial Properties* — and a USB drive.

On the back of the card, in neat handwriting: *Three years of proposals.

Judge for yourself.*