Morning light filtered through my bedroom window as I sat on the edge of my bed, the events of the past few days weighing heavily on my mind. The shock of seeing my father, Victor, deep in conversation with Richard Frasher at the Frasher Estate still reverberated through me. My father, the man I had always seen as my rock, now seemed shrouded in mystery and potential deceit.
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I couldn’t shake the image of my father’s serious expression as he conversed with Richard. Doubts gnawed at me. Was he involved in something dangerous? Were our family’s secrets darker than I had imagined? The realization that my father might not be as upstanding as I had believed left me reeling.
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But amidst the confusion, a steely resolve began to take shape. I couldn’t afford to be naive. There was too much at stake. If my father was entangled in something sinister, I needed to know. The safety of my family depended on it.
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Deciding it was time to confront my father, I got dressed and headed downstairs. Victor’s study was in the east wing, a place I had rarely ventured into. But today, I would cross that threshold.
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As I approached the entrance to the east wing, my heart pounded in my chest. The ornate double doors loomed before me, a barrier to the truth I so desperately sought. Just as I reached for the handle, a voice stopped me.
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“Kaye, you know you’re not allowed to go there.”
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I turned to see Wiley standing in the hallway, his expression a mix of annoyance and warning. He stepped forward, blocking my path.
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“What are you doing here?” he asked, his voice low, his eyes barely meeting mine.
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“I need to talk to Dad,” I replied, my resolve unwavering.
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Wiley shook his head. “This isn’t the way. You know we’re not supposed to be in the east wing, unless invited. Whatever it is, it can wait.”
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“No, it can’t,” I insisted. “I need answers, Wiley, she hesitated, unsure whether to trust her brother with the gravity of this secret, unless she was completely sure. “I need to know something.”
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Wiley’s eyes hardened, his annoyance growing as tension passed between us. He sighed and wiped his hand across the face. “Barging in there isn’t going to help. Besides, I wanted to tell you to stay away from Jae, those people will only bring you harm.”
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His words, though well-intentioned, did little to quell the storm inside me, evoking the question of whether he had found out about Jae and I. Looking into his eyes, it didn’t seem like he knew so I just nodded in agreement, unsure what could have possibly transpired between them. But I knew he was right, nonetheless. Charging in without a plan wouldn’t get me the answers I needed and staying away from Jae was what I’ve tried to ever since the Valentine Formal. Reluctantly, I nodded, stepping back from the doors.
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“Fine,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper. “But Jae is my consort to the high society gala, and since mom already submitted it to the high society, it can’t be changed.”
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Wiley clenched his jaw and immediate tried to hide it with a faint smile of understanding. “I know, Auden told me… but, after that we’re both done with the elite crew. Nothing good can come from them.”
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With a final glance at the forbidden doors, I agreed and turned and walked away, my mind racing with thoughts and questions. The truth remained elusive.
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Wiley drove to school, his mind still replaying the conversation with Kaye. He blamed her naivety for falling for Jae's tricks, convincing himself that was the reason she had kissed Jae. The frustration gnawed at him, a constant reminder of the betrayals he felt from those he trusted most.
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As he pulled into the school parking lot, he realized he didn’t have his student card. Cursing under his breath, he called his mom to ask her to check his room.
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After a few moments, she returned to the phone. “It’s not here, Wiley. Are you sure you didn’t drop it somewhere?”
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A realization dawned on him. The diner. He must have dropped it there the night before. “Thanks, Mom,” he said, ending the call. He set his sights on Lake View knowing he could get inside school without his student card.
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The diner was now packed with commuters heading to work. Wiley felt the weight of their stares, his Bloomfield Gymnasium uniform standing out starkly in the bustling crowd. The contrast between the polished, elite atmosphere of Bloomfield and the gritty, worn-down environment of Lake View was striking.
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He reached the counter, where a man with a gruff demeanour greeted him. The man's name tag read "Phil," Wiley noticed sweat dripping from his forehead by the hot and busy ambience of the diner, as he approached.
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“Excuse me, I think I left my student card here last night. The girl working the counter might have found it?”
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Phil took a cloth from his overalls and wiped the sweat from his face, his expression indifferent. “She didn’t mention finding any card. She lives a few blocks away, though, her name’s Thalita Granger.”
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After getting directions from Phil, Wiley set off to find Thali. The streets of Lake View were a stark contrast to the manicured lawns and pristine roads of Bloomfield. Here, the roads were cracked, and the buildings showed signs of wear and age. The community had a gritty, hard-working vibe, with people bustling about, getting ready for another day of labour-intensive work.
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Lake View was a world apart from the affluent streets of Bloomfield. The town was nestled in the shadow of the old mines and factories that had once been the lifeblood of the community. The roads were cracked and uneven, with potholes that had been patched over countless times. The buildings, a mix of worn-down houses and dilapidated storefronts, showed signs of age and neglect, their paint peeling and windows cracked.
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The air had a gritty quality to it, a faint scent of metal and machinery lingering from the nearby industrial areas. The sidewalks were busy with kids on their way to school and people heading to work, their faces lined with the weariness of labour-intensive jobs. There was a resilience about the residents of Lake View, a determination to make the best of their circumstances despite the hardships they faced.
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The local shops and businesses were a far cry from the high-end boutiques and cafes of Bloomfield. Here, corner stores sold basic necessities, and diners like the one Wiley had visited were the gathering spots for the community. The neon signs flickered, casting a dim, colourful glow on the worn brick walls.
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Public schools in Lake View were underfunded and overcrowded, their playgrounds showing signs of heavy use. The students, like their parents, carried a toughness about them, a sense of camaraderie forged by shared struggles. The contrast with the pristine, well-funded institutions of Bloomfield was stark.
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Despite the challenges, there was a sense of community in Lake View that was palpable. The town had a rough charm, a reminder of simpler times and a testament to the enduring spirit of its residents. Neighbours looked out for each other, and there was a pride in their resilience.
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When he arrived at the address Phil had given him, a neighbour informed him that Thali had already left for school at Lake View High.
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Getting back into his car, he felt a sense awareness, finding a new sense of appreciation for his family’s prominence, and guilt that the people of Lake View had to live in the shadows while Bloomfield’s inhabitants indulged in unnecessary events, such as the High Society Gala.
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As Wiley walked through the gates of Lake View High, he felt the weight of the town’s history and the divide between their worlds. The stares and whispers from the students only heightened the tension, making him acutely aware of the boundaries he was crossing.
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His uniform stood out like a sore thumb amongst the casual wear of the Lake View High students and the whispers spread like wildfire and soon he felt himself the object of their scrutiny, a mix of awe and hostility. Girls watched him curiously, huddling and giggling in groups, while the guys eyed him with suspicion and anger. He was an outsider, a rich kid from across the border, intruding on their world.
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“Hey, do you know Thalitha Granger?” he asked a group of students.
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The murmurs grew louder as the word spread. Thali soon appeared, her expression a mix of irritation and surprise.
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Before Wiley could get out a word, she grabbed his arm and dragged him out of the school gates. The whispers and gossip followed them, fuelling her frustration. Once they were outside, she whirled on him, her eyes blazing. Her face flustered with a crimson red.
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“Do you have any idea how embarrassing this is?” she scolded, her voice shaking. She flips her backpack around her shoulder and retrieves the student card from a small front pocket. “I was going to bring it back to you after school, now, everyone thinks I have a rich boyfriend!” she was visibly angry and annoyed, that them thinking that was the worst thing that could happen to her.
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He looked around, the students still staring at the from a distance, he leaned into her closer. “That wouldn’t be so bad, would it?” He smirked, teasing her a little.
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She was growing angrier. “The Olivia Cuthbert’s of the world might fall to your feet but I would rather die than be associated with some rich dude from Bloomfield. The family’s there are responsible for what’s wrong with Lake View.”
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As she turned and walked back to the school, Wiley grabbed her by the arm, the scrutiny and chatter of their audience intensifying, her words sparked so much question in him, “You know Liv?”
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He stared into her eyes, looking for any answers possible but her blue irises were cold and uninterested. “I know all of them too well, just because you got away with it using the power of your families, doesn’t mean me or my friends forgot about what you’ve done.”
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Thalita violently pulled her arm from Wiley’s grip, shocked by her sudden confession left him feeling more out of place and far from the truth than ever before. The tension between their worlds was palpable, and he couldn’t shake the feeling that he had just crossed a line that couldn’t be uncrossed, knowing that he wouldn’t let up until he finds out what Thalita knows, perhaps, this was the secret they so desperately wanted to hide.
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Antonio Cuthbert strode down the dimly lit hallway, his footsteps echoing off the marble floors. He had returned to Bloomfield unannounced, his presence a carefully guarded secret. No one knew he was back, and he intended to keep it that way, at least for now.
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He approached a set of double doors, the faint murmur of voices reaching his ears. A clandestine meeting was underway, the familiar voices of Meredith and Bill George, Claire and Harold Archer, Michael Reidd, Matthew Durant, and Sam Starling filtering through the crack in the door. The Founding Family Organization (FFO) was convened, and Antonio was not on the guest list.
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With a steely resolve, he pushed the doors open, stepping into the room. The conversation halted abruptly, all eyes turning to him. The tension was palpable, the air thick with unspoken words and hidden agendas.
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“Antonio,” Meredith George said, her voice laced with surprise and a hint of annoyance. “We weren’t expecting you.”
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Antonio offered a thin smile. “Clearly. But I’m here now, so let’s get to it.”
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Harold Archer, who sat at the head of the table, leading the organization since Antonio left for his business travels, exchanged a glance with Claire, his wife, before addressing Antonio. “You’ve always had a knack for making dramatic entrances.”
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“And you’ve always had a knack for wanting my spot.” Antonio stared at him intently, the implication clear. Harold stood up and sat down across from his wife, on the right side of the main chair.
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Antonio’s gaze swept the room, taking in the wary expressions of the FFO members. “I couldn’t stay away, not with so much at stake, yet no one here seemed to deem it important for me to know. The upcoming election, the Burchart family, our future—it’s all too important to leave to chance.”
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Michael Reidd leaned forward, his expression calculating. “And what do you suggest we do about the Burcharts, Antonio? The Ferucchi’s have been a thorn in our side and the Burchart’s seems to be a rapid growing pain.”
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Bill agreed, “Do you know that Victor Burchart had purchased the mines on the east as well. He’s venturing into many unrelated enterprises; it seems a bit suspicious to me.”
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Matthew’s voice echoed, “As well as the Ferucchi’s mines, it seemed to be a joint deal with the house. How did he get the deeds? It was never found back then.”
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Claire was the first to agree, “Yes, which brings the question. Who allowed the High Society Luncheon to be hosted by the Burchart’s with this little power they have gained a rapid support from many prominent families.”
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“And how do we know that the Burchart’s and Ferucchi’s aren’t the same people?” Antonio said, his voice low and measured. “Has no one thought about this? Are you sure that Victor Burchart, isn’t Vance Ferucchi? The eldest son of that family.”
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The room fell silent, the weight of Antonio’s words settling over them like a heavy fog. The FFO members exchanged uneasy glances, the implications of his question hanging in the air.
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Harold broke the silence, his voice cautious. “If what you’re suggesting is true, Antonio, then we have a much bigger problem on our hands. The Ferucchi’s were a force to be reckoned with, and if Victor Burchart is indeed Vance Ferucchi, then we need to act swiftly and decisively.”
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Antonio nodded. “Exactly. We need to gather more information, find proof, and plan our next move. The Burcharts—or Ferucchi’s—are a threat to everything we’ve built, and we can’t afford to underestimate them.”
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Meredith leaned forward; her expression resolute. “We’ll support you, Antonio. But we need to tread carefully. This is a delicate situation, and one wrong move could bring everything crashing down.”
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Antonio’s smile returned, a predatory gleam in his eyes. “Agreed. Let’s make sure there are no wrong moves.”
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The meeting continued, the discussions turning to the finer details of their plans. Antonio listened intently, his mind already working through the various angles and possibilities. The Burchart family, the upcoming election, the power dynamics within Bloomfield—it was all a complex web, and Antonio intended to be the spider at the centre of it all.
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As the meeting drew to a close, Antonio stood, his gaze sweeping the room once more. “We have a lot of work to do. Let’s get to it.”
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The FFO members nodded in agreement, their expressions a mix of determination and wariness. As Antonio turned to leave, he felt a sense of satisfaction. He was back, and he was ready to reclaim his place at the top.
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Sam Starling, the youngest and newest member of the FFO, shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “And what about the election? How do we ensure we come out on top?”
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Antonio’s smile widened, a predatory gleam in his eyes. “I’ll be running for mayor this election; I intend to settle down once and for all. Sam, you can take over the travel negotiations, should any occur farther. We use every tool at our disposal. Leverage our influence, control the narrative, and eliminate any threats. This is our town, and we will not let anyone take it from us.”
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The group shifted uncomfortably at this revelation, but no one dared to say a word, even though everyone knew that Harold was the best politician between the two and Antonio, was better at handling darker and sinister relations behind the scenes. Also, the Archer’s had an unwavering history of maintaining their political position as the mayor family since they overthrew the Ferucchi over a decade ago.
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The room fell silent, the weight of Antonio’s words settling over them. Meredith cleared her throat, breaking the tension. “Very well. We’ll follow your lead, Antonio. But remember, we’re all in this together. Any misstep affects us all.”
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Antonio nodded, his expression serious. “Agreed. Let’s make sure there are no missteps.”
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As the meeting drew to a close, Antonio stood, his gaze sweeping the room once more. “We have a lot of work to do. Let’s get to it.”
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The FFO members nodded in agreement, their expressions a mix of determination and wariness. As Antonio turned to leave, he felt a sense of satisfaction. He was back, and he was ready to reclaim his place at the top.
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