THE BROKEN DREAMS

The next morning, Fred left the house even earlier.

He wore the same frayed uniform — washed carefully but still carrying stains life couldn't scrub out — and walked with slow, heavy steps through the trash-lined streets of South Brook Alley.

The shops were opening, metallic shutters clattering up with tired groans.

A stray dog with matted fur limped past him.

Children in oversized sweaters played soccer with a torn ball, laughing the kind of laughter Fred had almost forgotten.

He passed the same poster of the Royal Crest Prom, plastered across the power poles.

Golden letters.

Red carpet dreams.

"The night you'll never forget!" it screamed at him.

Fred walked faster, heart sinking.

Prom?

He could barely afford breakfast.

---

Arrival at Royal Crest: Storm Before Storm

When he reached school, things were different.

Stranger.

There was a buzz in the air, like static before a lightning strike.

At the entrance stood a girl nobody had seen before.

And she wasn't just any girl.

She was... magnetic.

---

Name: Sabrina Valmont

Age: 17

Skin Color: Honey-bronze glow

Body Shape: Tall, slim waist, delicate curves

Eyes: Stormy grey, sharp and observant

Hair: Long silky black hair with deep blue highlights, falling past her waist

Outfit: Customized navy school uniform, gold earrings shaped like daggers

Profession (student): Transfer student — rumored to be expelled from an elite private academy

Attitude: Cold smile. Sarcastic. Observant.

Flaws: Arrogant. Hides pain behind cruelty. Trust issues.

Strengths: Intelligent. Manipulative. Strategic.

Everyone noticed her instantly.

Boys straightened their backs.

Girls glanced sideways, sizing her up with daggers in their eyes.

She moved like a queen returning to her ruined kingdom — calm, untouchable, untamed.

---

Fred, trying to slide past unnoticed, accidentally bumped into her.

His battered backpack caught on her sleeve.

> "Watch it, peasant."

She hissed under her breath, yanking her arm away.

Their eyes met.

Fred's dark, tired brown gaze locked with her storm-grey stare.

For a flicker of a moment — maybe half a heartbeat — Sabrina's mask slipped.

Fred saw something there:

A flash of loneliness

A fracture beneath her perfect surface

Then it was gone.

She rolled her eyes and strutted past him, her perfume lingering — soft jasmine and danger.

Fred lowered his head and walked on.

In his world, queens and peasants didn't mix.

They only trampled harder.

--

By lunch, the rumors had exploded:

Sabrina was the daughter of a billionaire — Joseph Valmont, CEO of Valmont Energy.

She got expelled for slapping a teacher.

She ran away from home.

She was engaged to the son of a political dynasty.

She slept with half the boys in her last school.

None of it confirmed.

All of it believed.

At Royal Crest, a reputation didn't need proof.

It only needed blood.

---

During Literature class, while Mrs. Stern droned on about Shakespeare, Sabrina stood up suddenly, slamming her book shut.

Everyone stared.

> "This school is pathetic," she said loudly, voice dripping with venom.

"You're all just pretty dolls pretending to be real people. Keep playing. I'll be watching."

Then she sat back down, perfectly calm.

Mrs. Stern said nothing — too shocked to react.

Fred stared at Sabrina, confused and oddly... fascinated.

Maybe she wasn't a queen after all.

Maybe she was a wolf who had been caged too long.

---

That afternoon, flyers flooded the school:

> "Grand Yacht Party Invitation: Sabrina's Official Welcome Bash!"

Location: Starlight Marina, Reserved Deck.

No Invitation, No Entry.

Fred crushed the paper in his fist.

A yacht party?

His house could barely survive a heavy rain.

Still, as he tossed the flyer away, he caught a glimpse of the guest list:

Tiffany Lane — Top beauty, Queen Bee

Victor Simmons — Prince of the school

Leon Hartfield — Football captain, heartthrob

Maya Elms — Queen of Drama Club

And dozens of others...

Of course.

Royalty invited royalty.

Pawns like Fred didn't get to dance under chandeliers.

They scrubbed the floors after.

---

That night, Fred returned home to find another eviction notice taped to their cracked door.

> "FINAL WARNING: RENT DUE IN FULL. 5 DAYS OR LEGAL ACTION WILL BE TAKEN."

His mother lay asleep on the couch, her hand clutching a handful of cough medicine bottles.

The room smelled of damp walls and despair.

Fred slid down against the door, clutching the paper so hard his knuckles turned white.

His stomach growled painfully — he hadn't eaten since the piece of bread at lunch.

He pressed his forehead to his knees.

He felt so small.

So powerless.

So forgotten.

---

That night, Fred didn't pray.

He had prayed too many times.

Instead, he stared at the ceiling and promised himself:

> "I will rise, even if it breaks me. I will survive this storm. I'll make sure they regret everything."

And somewhere, far away, in a world he wasn't yet part of — music, laughter, and the clinking of champagne glasses filled the yacht party he would never be invited to.

For now.

---