1. Daphne

Chapter one

Daphne

W henever I play my harp for crowds, surges of electricity course through me. Each note that leaves my fingertips seems to pierce the ceiling, bouncing back with such force that it feels like I’m merely a vessel. It’s a desperate release of pure catharsis.

In fact, the best part is that I’m actually good.

Years of playing since middle school had earned me a full-ride scholarship at Whitmore University, the Midwest’s most prestigious art college. That’s why I transferred here as a junior this year. Despite the benefits of getting a quality education, the decision wasn’t easy. Attending WU meant encountering the Whitmore siblings, whose family looms over the university like a pair of imposing figures.

I have a complicated history with both of them. Okay, fine, I’ll admit I’m anxious. Not sure why. Maybe it’s just the change of scenery, the anticipation of meeting new people, or the thought of seeing him again. Him being Alexandru Whitmore, my biggest crush. Annoyingly, he’s Victoria’s brother. The same Victoria who is my biggest rival.

To give credit where it’s due, I also have a bit of natural talent, and home wasn’t exactly a safe place for me.

I think that’s why Victoria hates me. Our teacher gave me keys to practice in the studio overnight. The truth is the teacher sympathized with my home life. Being able to have a protected space for practice carried significant meaning. From Victoria’s standpoint, I bet it looked a lot like favoritism.

The familiar anxiety creeps up as I walk towards the music building for my first class of the day: plucked strings. Yet the thrill of playing my beloved harp quickly tempers my nerves. It was Grandma who introduced me to the instrument, leaving behind money to cover lessons at the prestigious Whitmore Institute for teenagers. The same Whitmores that own this university. They have quite the monopoly on musical education around these parts.

From cradle to grave. From Whitmore Institute for teenagers to Whitmore University for adults. To my surprise, my grandmother gave all of her money to me instead of my mother, who had hoped for it. This caused even more tension between us as she tried to get all of the payments back before my grandmother passed away. It turned out that the Institute had strict contracts against refunds or cancellations .

A year later, my dad moved out and started a new family in Iowa, or so I’ve heard.

So, naturally, playing the harp now brings mixed emotions. It’s like a double-edged sword. On one hand, it reminds me of Grandma and all the good times we had. But on the other, it brings back all those bad memories with Mom and Victoria.

As I walk towards the music building, the Midwestern sun beats down on me. I hope that, now that we’re adults, Victoria will have moved past her animosity towards me. After all, it has been nine years since we last saw each other.

Pushing open the door to the main hallway of the music building, I am greeted by a rush of fresh, air-conditioned breeze. I must still have Alex on my mind because when a tall, lean figure with dark hair emerges from a doorway, I do a double take, convinced it’s Alex. But I quickly dismiss the thought. Alex had no interest in music; he much preferred video games and baking.

I wonder if he would even remember me. It’s been nine years, after all. Either way, I’ll never forget him, even if I’m alone in my sentiments. My soul called out to his from the moment I saw him, and he will always be my should-have-been.

The music building is a bustling beehive. Students, laden with instruments, practice in the hallways or engage in animated conversations. My heart pounds as I navigate the throng, my mind racing.

I’m on a mission to find my plucked strings class.

My palms are sweating as I approach the room. A part of me wants to turn back, but I can’t. Grandma Rosaline always taught me to give my entire being to my passions. I won’t be run off that easily.

I shove my sunglasses onto my forehead, take a deep breath, and remind myself that Victoria no longer holds sway over me. I closed that chapter of my life.

As I nudge open the door and step into the brightly lit room, I’m in heaven with the plethora of string instruments—lutes, zithers, banjos, and harps. Even so, my attention immediately draws to Victoria Whitmore.

Victoria, as always, is the picture of perfection. Her hair is flawlessly styled, her makeup impeccable, and she’s wearing Chanel No. 5 perfume. Hey! I might not be able to afford it, but I’ve indulged in free samples at the mall. I’m not a total helpless cause.

Victoria is chatting to Celeste Morgan, who is casually leaning against an empty wall.

Holy hell, Celeste looks completely different than how I remember her. It’s like Khloe Kardashian in season one of Keeping up with the Kardashians , versus season 20. Both are beautiful, just different. Victoria laughs at something Celeste says, and I’m brought back to the past.

As if sensing my scrutiny, Victoria and Celeste turn to meet my gaze. Dread washes over me as they approach, their confident strides echoing the predatory grace of lions stalking their prey. I’m reliving an old nightmare.

“Daphne! What an unpleasant surprise.” Victoria’s grin lacks any warmth, making her gaze feel like needles on my skin.

As a Whitmore, she probably knows I’m on a scholarship. It wouldn’t surprise me if she memorized my entire schedule.

I’ll never forget the first time she scowled at me. It was right after I’d joined the Whitmore Institute and earned the coveted First Chair in our section. First Chair is a big deal; it means the teacher thinks you’re the best musician in your group. Equally so, it’s also a constant battle. One week you’re on top, and the next you might be back in the middle.

Victoria’s mood soured after I’d won First Chair. So, when her brother walked into class at the end of the day and I practically had little hearts coming from my eyes with drool pooling from the corner of my lips, she immediately noticed.

Victoria has always been a spoiled brat. Even at eleven, she wore fur coats and got weekly beauty treatments. I know because she rubbed it in my face after I’d come to the Institute with a terrible homemade haircut.

Alexandru, her brother, couldn’t be more different. He’s a year older and always seemed more down to earth. The first time I saw him, he was twelve and wearing glasses, a baseball cap, and ripped jeans. How could I have known they were related? Their eyes might look similar, but that’s where the resemblance ends. I had no idea he was her brother; I swear.

Victoria assumed I was only interested in him to annoy her. Like I was making fun of him by having a crush.

“Victoria,” the professor warns lightly, but he makes no real attempt to dissuade her continued mockery.

She smirks, her voice dripping with sarcasm, completely ignoring the professor’s reprimand. “So, they finally let you into WU?” Celeste giggles beside her, the two of them feeding off each other’s toxic energy. To make matters worse, their commotion draws the attention of the few other students in the class. My cheeks burn from embarrassment.

Just as I part my lips to retort, the door swings open, and in stumbles Eden Park, a kind friend from my childhood. A ray of hope, she was the only one who stood up against Victoria’s bullying during our school days .

Not that we all studied together in school. They did, but I attended the public one across town.

“Sorry I’m late!” she heaves, her braids bouncing with each hurried step. She catches her breath, tugging at her hair as she spots me in the back. A glance around the room tells her everything she needs to know. With a nod, she quickly diffuses the tension by grabbing her cello and settling down beside me. “Don’t mind them. Maybe they’ll finally grow up this semester.”

While retreating to her harp, Victoria says over her shoulder, “We were only catching up with an old friend.”

Friend? Vic and I are barely even frenemies. I really hoped she would have moved on by now.

Eden sends me a reassuring smile. Her auburn hair catches the light filtering through the high windows. “You’re stronger than Victoria and Celeste’s games. Besides, you won’t see them much outside of class. Celeste is always attached to her boyfriend, and Victoria rarely leaves their sides.”

I want to ask who Celeste’s boyfriend is, but I’m much too afraid to come across as obsessed with the girls who made my life hell growing up.

I hope he’s a toad, whoever he is.

The rest of the class goes by smoothly, with Eden’s friendly presence acting as a shield against Victoria and Celeste. Even so, I can’t shake off the feeling of familiarity that sweeps over me whenever my eyes meet Alexandru’s sister. A part of me wishes that it was really him I saw today while the other is relieved that it probably wasn’t.

After all, I still remember him vividly. Too vividly for my own good. There’s no denying that these memories bring both sweet nostalgia and painful regret.

As I play notes on my harp, I wonder whether this second chance at Whitmore will become a blessing in disguise or open old wounds that never truly healed.

The initial shock of seeing Victoria has turned into a constant dread. I’m terrified that she and Celeste will haunt all my classes.

My last class is barely over when I get the most terrifying email ever. The housing committee has finally revealed my roommates, and let’s just say I’m not laughing; because in big, bold letters it says, Go fuck yourself, Daphne.

Okay, so the letter moreso implied that it wants me to fuck myself. In reality, it names Victoria, Celeste, and Eden as my roommates. With the exception of the latter, I about have a panic attack .

So, here I am now. Outside my dorm, preparing myself for battle. My heart pounds in my chest as I fumble with the key, my hands trembling with a mix of exhaustion and dread after a grueling first day of classes. With each click of the lock, my anxiety grows, and I brace myself for the inevitable confrontation.

I hoped time had softened the edges of our animosity, but as soon as I enter, I know I was wrong. Victoria and Celeste are lounging on the couch, their perfectly styled figures radiating an air of superiority. Their disdainful gazes and smug expressions twist my stomach into knots.

Ah, fuck. I’m never going to escape them.

“Well, well, well,” Celeste drawls, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “Look who finally deigned to grace us with their presence.” She crosses her legs—a calculated, seductive gesture that makes my skin crawl.

Victoria, always by her side, joins in on the attack. “Welcome back, Daphne.” Would be nice if she hadn’t said it in a sarcastic tone. The sound of her saccharine voice makes me want to cringe. It’s like stepping back in time.

“Or are you not used to such formalities where you come from?” Victoria adds, arching an eyebrow in a challenge I have no energy to meet .

I flinch at their taunts, feeling insignificant under their scrutiny. They know just how to push my buttons, especially when it comes to my troubled family history. Everyone knows Mom is in prison, but not why. And now that they have each other’s backing, they seem more determined than ever to make my life a living hell.

“Apparently not,” Celeste chimes in again, her voice rising with excitement. “Just wait till you hear what I’ve got planned for when you’re around. I’m going to fuck my boyfriend so loudly.” It’s as if she thinks I care, but I don’t. No matter who her boyfriend is.

“Gross,” I murmur. Why now? Unconcerned with my presence in grade school, Celeste was content to orbit in her universe of wealth and privilege. But here she is, orbit decayed, crashing into my world with the force of a spiteful comet.

Must be Victoria’s influence.

“Don’t spoil all the surprises for her, Celeste,” Victoria chimes in with an evil glint in her eye. It is sickening how they feed off each other’s malice.

I press my back against the cool wood of the door, needing its solid reality to counter the swirl of chaos these two bring. After composing myself, I straighten, forcing my features into neutrality.

Free ride of tuition. Room and board , I remind myself. I can do this. Endure a bit of hell for a lifetime of heaven .

“Is our roommate here?” a familiar voice calls out from the kitchen.

“Eden!” I exclaim, rounding the corner and spotting her in the kitchen arms wide and welcoming. Eden was the nicest girl at Whitmore Institute, and she always stood up to Victoria. Right now, she’s a much-needed blast from the past.

Our eyes meet, and something unspoken passes between us. All at once, I’m launching my tired ass to the kitchen. On the bright side, I’m also distancing myself from the cackling hyenas in the living room.

“Dahp-aknee!” she squeals, and then we’re colliding, a tangle of limbs and wild giggles that dance around the kitchen. Just what I needed after a tough first day.

She squeezes tight, grounding me, solid and real. For a moment, the rest of the world—the cruel intentions of Celeste and Victoria, and the deep ache for Alex—falls away. Sometimes, a girl just needs a little backup to remind herself that she can persevere.

Eden pulls back, her emerald eyes twinkling with mischief. A playful frown creases her ungroomed brows, a mock serious expression that makes her look even more mischievous. With her by my side, I know I won’t be bullied away by those mean girls.