The next morning, Alivia stood in front of the walk-in closet. It was filled with clothes, but none of them were hers. Rows of designer dresses, blouses, and skirts.

She found her old grey hoodie in the back, shoved in a laundry hamper. She pulled it out and put it on. It was her armor.

When she got downstairs, a sleek silver Audi A8 was waiting. Not the Escalade.

"Mr. Blackburn thought this would be more discreet for campus," the driver, a man named Silas with a neck as thick as a tree trunk, said as he opened the door.

They drove to NYU in silence. Silas stopped two blocks away, as she requested.

"Thank you," she mumbled, hopping out.

She pulled her hood up and adjusted her glasses. Just be invisible. Like always.

But the campus was buzzing.

"That's her," someone whispered. "The one who married the monster."

"I heard he keeps her in a cage."

Alivia kept her head down, walking fast.

"Well, look who let the dog out."

Alivia froze. Kacy was sitting at a patio table outside the coffee shop, holding court with her minions. Madison, a girl who had made Alivia's freshman year a living hell, was laughing.

"Did he let you out for a walk, Alivia?" Madison sneered. "Or did you escape?"

Alivia tried to walk past them.

Kacy stuck her foot out.

Alivia saw it coming, but she was too slow. She tripped, stumbling forward. Her backpack slid off her shoulder, spilling her textbooks onto the pavement.

Laughter erupted around them.

"So clumsy," Kacy said, sipping her latte. "Maybe the monster blinded her."

Madison walked over and placed her stiletto heel right on the cover of Alivia's organic chemistry notebook.

"Oops," Madison smiled. "Trash belongs on the ground."

Alivia stared at the heel. She stared at the notebook.

Something inside her snapped.

Maybe it was the black card burning a hole in her pocket. Maybe it was the memory of Gideon's voice saying, You are a Blackburn.

Alivia stood up. She didn't brush off her knees. She didn't fix her glasses.

She looked straight at Kacy.

"Move your foot," Alivia said.

Kacy blinked. "Excuse me?"

"Tell your lapdog to move her foot off my property." Alivia's voice was steady. Cold.

Madison looked at Kacy, unsure.

"Or what?" Kacy laughed. "You'll tell your daddy? Oh wait, Daddy sold you."

"No," Alivia said. She took a step toward Kacy. "I won't tell Daddy. But maybe I should tell everyone here why Daddy had to sell me."

Kacy's smile faltered. "Shut up."

"Is it because Clemons Industries is on the verge of collapse?" Alivia asked, her voice rising just enough to be heard by the surrounding tables. "Is it because you spent the employee pension fund on your trips to Monaco? I've heard Father on the phone late at night. The vultures are circling."

The laughter died instantly. Whispers broke out.

"You're lying!" Kacy hissed, standing up. Her face was pale.

"Am I?" Alivia tilted her head. "Check the stock price, Kacy. It's been in freefall for a month."

Kacy looked like she had been slapped.

Madison quickly stepped off the notebook, backing away from the toxicity radiating from Kacy.

Alivia bent down, picked up her book, and dusted it off. She looked at her sister one last time.

"Stay out of my way."

She turned and walked toward the lecture hall. Her hands were shaking, but her head was high.

Two blocks away, in the parked Audi, Silas pressed a button on his phone.

"She handled it, sir."

In his office at the top of the Blackburn Tower, Gideon watched the live feed from the campus security camera on his tablet.

A slow, dark smile spread across his face.

"Good girl."

Professor Lowe was a fossil of a man who believed that tardiness was a moral failing.

"The Krebs cycle waits for no one," he droned, scribbling on the whiteboard.

Alivia sat in the middle row, trying to focus. But the back of her neck was prickling.

The door banged open.

Preston Lowe sauntered in. He was the Professor's son, a frat boy with too much hair gel and a reputation for not taking 'no' for an answer.

"Mr. Lowe," the Professor sighed. "Nice of you to join us."

"Traffic was a bitch," Preston muttered, sliding into the seat directly behind Alivia.

He leaned forward. Alivia could smell stale beer and expensive cologne.

"Nice hoodie," he whispered. "Hiding the bruises?"

Alivia gripped her pen. Ignore him.

"I heard your husband is a freak," Preston continued, his voice low and wet against her ear. "Does he even know how to use it? Or do you need a real man to show you?"

Alivia's pen snapped. Ink bled onto her fingers.

She shifted away, but Preston kicked the back of her chair.

"Don't be shy, sugar baby. We all know what you are. You're just a high-priced whore."

Alivia spun around, ready to scream, but Professor Lowe turned from the board.

"Miss Clemons? Is there a problem?"

"No, sir," Alivia gritted out.

Preston smirked. "She's just excited about biology, Dad."

Alivia turned back, her face burning. She felt dirty.

High above the city, Gideon's hand froze over a document.

He was listening. He had bugged her backpack. Not because he didn't trust her, but because he didn't trust the world with her.

He heard every word.

Whore.

The pencil in Gideon's hand snapped in two.

He hit the intercom. "Finn."

Finn appeared in the doorway three seconds later. "Yeah?"

"Preston Lowe. NYU. Senior."

"I know him. Dad's a professor. Kid's a waste of space."

"Cut it," Gideon said. His voice was devoid of emotion, which made it terrifying.

"Cut what?"

"Everything. His credit cards. His trust fund. And find out who funds Professor Lowe's research lab."

Finn typed on his tablet. "Uh, looks like a grant from the Blackburn Foundation."

"Cancel it."

Finn looked up. "Boss, that's a two-million-dollar grant. The university will flip."

"I don't care. Cancel it. And tell the Dean I want to donate a new library wing. On one condition."

"Which is?"

"Preston Lowe is expelled."

Finn whistled. "You're going nuclear over a frat boy?"

Gideon looked at the broken pencil on his desk.

"He made her feel unsafe. Nuclear is the only option."

Back in the classroom, Alivia was packing her bag. The bell had rung.

Preston stood up, blocking her path to the aisle.

"So, about that tutorial," he leered, reaching for her arm.

"Don't touch me," Alivia said.

"Come on, Liv. I can pay. Not as much as the monster, but-"

Suddenly, Preston's phone buzzed. Then it buzzed again. And again.

He pulled it out. "What the hell?"

He stared at the screen. "Card declined? Account frozen?"

He looked up, confused.

Alivia took the opportunity to shove past him.

"Move, Preston."

She walked out of the room, leaving him staring at his phone, his life crumbling around him, though he didn't know why yet.

The next morning, Alivia woke up to an invasion.

A rack of clothes was wheeled into her bedroom by a woman with a severe bob cut and a tape measure around her neck.

"Up, up!" the woman clapped. "Mr. Blackburn says the 'hobo chic' look is retired."

"Who are you?" Alivia rubbed her eyes.

"Sasha. I'm here to format your hard drive. Or in this case, your closet."

For two hours, Alivia was poked, prodded, and draped in fabric. The hoodies were bagged up. The jeans were replaced with tailored trousers and silk blouses.

When Sasha was done, Alivia looked in the full-length mirror.

She was wearing a cream-colored cashmere coat, a navy dress that hugged her waist, and boots that added three inches to her height. Her hair was blown out in soft waves. She wasn't hiding anymore.

She looked... powerful.

She walked out to the living room. Gideon was drinking coffee, reading the Wall Street Journal.

He lowered the paper. His eyes swept over her, starting at her boots and ending at her eyes. He didn't smile, but his pupils dilated.

"Acceptable," he said.

"I feel like a doll," Alivia tugged at the coat.

"You look like a queen," Gideon corrected. "Act like one."

When the Audi pulled up to campus, Alivia stepped out.

The reaction was immediate. Heads turned. Conversations stopped.

She was no longer the invisible girl in the hoodie. She was an enigma, wrapped in cashmere and mystery, and the entire quad seemed to hold its breath as she passed.

She walked across the quad, the cashmere coat billowing behind her.

"Well, well."

Preston Lowe stepped into her path. He looked disheveled. His eyes were bloodshot.

"Look at you," he spat. "Spending my money?"

"Get out of my way, Preston," Alivia said calmly.

"My dad lost his grant this morning," Preston shouted. "And my cards are dead. You did this!"

A crowd began to gather.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Alivia said, stepping around him.

Preston grabbed her arm. Hard.

"Don't walk away from me, you bitch!" He yanked her back. "I want to see what's under that coat. Let's see what you're selling!"

He reached for the lapel of her coat.

Alivia froze.

Before his fingers could touch the cashmere, a hand clamped onto Preston's wrist.

It wasn't Gideon. It was Silas.

The driver had moved with impossible speed. He twisted Preston's wrist.

Snap.

Preston screamed, dropping to his knees.

"Touch Mrs. Blackburn again," Silas said, his voice like grinding gravel, "and you will lose the hand."

The crowd gasped. Mrs. Blackburn.

Silas released Preston, who curled into a ball on the grass, cradling his wrist.

Silas straightened his suit jacket and turned to Alivia. He bowed slightly.

"Are you unharmed, Ma'am?"

Alivia looked at the groaning boy on the ground, then at the terrified faces of the students around her.

"I'm fine, Silas," she said. Her voice didn't shake.

"Good. The car is waiting."

Alivia walked to the car, leaving Preston in the dirt. She didn't look back.