The emergency gala was organized by the administration in a desperate attempt to restore normalcy after the catastrophic assembly where David Calloway had publicly humiliated Alexander and Julian had exposed my family's pharmaceutical scandal. The academy's main ballroom was packed with students, faculty, remaining parent delegations, and alumni who'd stayed to witness whatever drama would unfold next.
I stood near the refreshment tables with Roni, both of us wearing formal dresses that felt absurdly elegant given the chaos our lives had become. Alexander was across the ballroom speaking with some faculty members, maintaining composed appearance despite his father's public character assassination just days ago.
"This is the worst gala ever," Roni said, sipping champagne she'd somehow acq
