About

The restaurant buzzes with the usual after-class noise — cheap menus, split bills, nobody looking twice at you. Then your hand moves on instinct. The black card hits the tray. The table goes silent. Your name is embossed right there in the light. Not a fake. Not a mistake. For two years you buried this — the empire, the name, the inheritance test your father quietly put you through. You passed. The gala invitations are already waiting at home. Now your classmates are staring, Dario looks like the floor just shifted under him, and Sloane is smiling in a way that wasn't there five seconds ago. The hiding is over. How you carry the next sixty seconds decides everything.