Sitting there in shock, I stayed rooted in place, the study now cold and eerie. My thoughts were a blur. What had I just heard? What did Aunt Grace mean by "she needs to know"? And who was Sinclair? My mind looped those words like a broken record, and for a moment, I wondered if I had imagined the whole thing.
No. I didn't.
I stood slowly, carefully peeking out of the study to make sure the hallway was empty. My legs felt like jelly as I stepped out, every creak in the floor echoing through my bones. I turned back briefly to check if I'd left anything behind. My journal was tucked safely under my arm. I had no evidence of what I heard, just memory and confusion.
The walk back to my room felt longer than it should've. Shadows danced on the walls, and I could still hear the soft murmur of distant voices, probably the last of the girls settling in. But in my mind, the only voice I could hear was Grace's.
She needs to know.
Know what?
"Melody!" Ava's voice pulled me from my spiral the second I stepped into the room. A pillow came flying toward me. "Where have you been?!"
It hit me gently, and I managed a small smile as I dropped my journal on the bed. "I'm so sorry. I got a little… lost."
Cassie and Nala turned to look at me, but it was Ava who stood with her arms crossed. "Listen, Melody, I know we've only known each other for like, what? a day? But we need to be accountable for each other. This place is really huge, and let's be honest, kind of weird. You can't just vanish like that, okay?"
Her tone wasn't mean, it was firm. Concerned. That somehow made it worse.
I nodded quickly, but the words caught in my throat. I tried to blink the sting in my eyes away, but it was too late. The tears came fast and messy, falling before I could stop them.
"Melody… are you crying?" Nala asked, scooting closer.
"Please don't cry," Ava said quickly, her voice suddenly soft. "I didn't mean to hurt your feelings, I was just worried, okay?"
Their kindness made it worse. My hands covered my face as I began to cry harder, the tension of everything unraveling inside me. "I'm just…" I sniffled, trying to find the right words. "I'm just overwhelmed."
The room went quiet.
"I thought I could trust her," I said through the sobs. "My aunt… we've done everything together. She encouraged me to write. She took me away from all the noise when I needed it. I really do love her. But now I'm starting to feel like… I can't trust her. And that terrifies me."
There it was. The truth I hadn't said out loud until now.
Ava walked over, sitting beside me and wrapping an arm around my shoulder. "Love is compromise, Melody. It's messy. It doesn't always make sense. I've been hurt before, too. Sometimes, you forgive, not because they deserve it, but because letting go hurts more. Sometimes, I pretend not to notice just to keep them close."
Nala leaned forward, her hands folded on her lap. "I've had to choose between love and duty more times than I can count. And honestly? I always thought I was too cold to care. But the hardest choices always come from the people we care about most."
Cassie nodded, quiet for once. Her eyes met mine. "Trust gets shaken. It doesn't mean it can't come back."
"So…" Ava said gently. "What are you going to do?"
I sniffled, wiping my cheeks. "I think… I feel like drinking wine from the cellar."
There was a pause.
And then all four of us burst into laughter. Loud, ridiculous laughter.
"You're unbelievable," Cassie said, shaking her head.
"I mean, there is a wine cellar," Nala chimed in with a grin.
"What?!" we all shouted.
Nala blinked innocently. "What? There is!"
"How do you even know these things?" Ava asked, half-laughing, half-accusing.
"I read the building layout in the room guide," Nala said proudly, tossing her hair. "Unlike you girls, I like to be prepared. Also, Grace has a thing for vintage wines. She always stashes a few bottles in every place she stays long-term."
"I'm sorry," I said, wiping the last of my tears. "You read the guidebook?"
Cassie groaned. "Oh, she's one of those."
Nala shrugged. "A girl has to know her exits and entrances. And her merlots."
The laughter died down, replaced by a warm kind of silence. I looked around at the girls—these three people I'd just met, who somehow already felt like more than just temporary roommates. They were something close to real friends. Safe. Present. Unfiltered.
And for a moment, I let myself forget the study. The call. Grace's voice.
But I knew that moment wouldn't last.
Not with a secret note burning a hole in my pocket.
Not with midnight just around the corner.
The morning light filtered through the high windows, painting soft golden streaks across the ceiling. The atmosphere was quiet and gentle, a stark contrast to the whirlwind of emotions that had closed the night before. Melody sat by the writing desk in their shared room, her journal open and her pen gliding with purpose. Her hair was still slightly messy from sleep, but she looked peaceful, immersed in words that carried both weight and relief.
Ava walked in with a glass of warm lemon water, still in her silk robe, hair tied in a loose ponytail. "You're up early," she said softly.
"I didn't really sleep much," I replied without looking up. "But writing helps."
Ava sat at the edge of the bed, watching Melody for a moment before letting out a small sigh. "Today's the final prep. I've got rehearsals in the ballroom, a scene with Lord Ansel from the noble family. He's a bit stiff, but I think I can pull the emotions out of him."
"You always do," I smiled faintly. "You're brilliant like that."
Ava leaned back, eyes fluttering shut. "That's sweet. But what I wouldn't give to just be a normal girl doing boring things for once…"
Cassie came bursting through the door, singing in perfect pitch. "Warm-ups done! Vocal check complete!" she announced, throwing her arms dramatically. "And Melody, you still owe me a listen to my ballad. Don't think I forgot!"
"I wouldn't dream of it," I replied with a laugh. "Just let me finish this paragraph."
Behind her, Nala danced into the room with a practiced twirl, dressed in all black, eyes full of mischief. "Cassie's rehearsing her siren calls, Ava's wooing the lords, and Melody's writing history. What's my role in all this madness?"
"You're the actress who steals the spotlight," Ava teased.
"I'm the actress who knows where the wine is hidden," Nala winked.
We all laughed, the room now alive with the energy of four girls doing what we love, and doing it together.
Downstairs, Dynasty Hall was already buzzing with final fittings, technicians adjusting lights, and stylists running around like a coordinated storm. Grace was at the center of it all, clipboard in hand, giving instructions and nodding approvingly at progress. Today was the last day for adjustments, final touches, and emotional readiness. Tomorrow, the curtains would rise.
Each girl had her role
Cassie, was in the marble music hall, her voice ringing through the air as she practiced her final number, a soulful blend of classical and jazz. The vocal coach praised her range while other performers paused their rehearsals just to listen. Cassie was nervous, but confident. She'd earned her moment.
Ava was already halfway through the first act of their fashion-theatre hybrid production. Her chemistry with Lord Ansel was unexpectedly good. She carried grace, humor, and fire, her royal lineage only amplifying her natural magnetism on stage. She wasn't performing for applause. She was performing for herself.
Nala, as expected, stole every scene she touched. Her rehearsals took place in the rose garden courtyard, now transformed into an ethereal stage. She played a mysterious temptress in the final scene, dramatizing beauty, betrayal, and power. It suited her too well.
And me, I found myself assigned to document the experience, writing profiles, character blurbs, and weaving mini-stories for the event's program guide. I sat in the library-turned-writers'-nook with a few others, my heart oddly content. A little piece on Ava I scrambled, was already drawing attention "The Princess of Windmere Who Found Her Stage." I wrote with honesty and flair, and for once, i felt seen, not as someone broken, but someone with a voice.
At one point during the day, the four of us met again in the costume lounge. Hair pinned up, scripts tucked into their waists, and snack wrappers scattered around.
"This day's flying by," i murmured as she looked out the window.
"I know. I want to bottle it," Ava said, stretching.
"Same," said Cassie, popping a grape into her mouth. "After this, who knows when we'll have something like this again?"
"We'll make it happen again," Nala said with a smile. "Let's not forget who we are."
Later in the evening, we were called for a final meeting with Grace. The grand hall was bathed in warm lights, and every participant, designers, actors, singers, tech crew, was seated. Grace stood on the grand staircase, wearing a tailored suit that commanded presence.
"I won't take your time," she began. "Tomorrow we unveil something special. Not just fashion, not just art. But you. All of you. This show is about redefining what it means to be seen."
She paused, her eyes scanning the crowd. For a split second, her gaze met mine.
"You've all given your best. Now trust yourselves. And each other."
A hush fell over the room as she descended the stairs. The show was tomorrow, and nothing would be the same afterward.
I stayed behind for a while, watching the way the lights played across the runway. I clutched my journal close, heart racing, not with fear, but purpose.
I didn't know exactly what Aunt Grace was hiding.
But tomorrow, under the lights of Dynasty Hall, something would unravel.
Something big.