---
Cassie leaned against the cold hallway wall, her arms folded, brows furrowed. She had overheard Victor again—low, frustrated murmurs leaking through his office door. Swilly talk. Miranda's name was dropped, sharp and venomous, as if it carried weight heavier than threats. Something wasn't right.
She didn't waste time. Storming down the corridor, she found Blair in the kitchen, rinsing her breakfast plate.
"We need to talk," Cassie said flatly.
Blair blinked. "Okay...?"
"It's about Miranda. Victor said she's still threatening them."
Blair turned, her brow rising. "Who's Miranda?"
Cassie hesitated, then sighed. "She was one of Dad's ex-business partners. They had a massive fallout. She wanted more than half of his deal. Took him to court. Big case. But Dad won."
Blair's expression sharpened. "So now she's back for revenge?"
"Seems like it," Cassie murmured.
"What do you think she's threatening him with?"
"That's not what matters," Cassie said, stepping closer. "What matters is we need to help Dad. Somehow."
Blair's lips parted in shock. "yes "
Cassie didn't flinch. "If we don't get to the root of this, she'll keep haunting everyone."
A beat of silence passed. Then a voice called faintly from upstairs. "Girls, are you ready for school?"
Cassie rolled her eyes. "Let's get dressed."
They disappeared into their separate rooms.
---
Later that day, the lunchroom was loud, packed with students in navy uniforms and excited chatter. Blair sat across from Maddie, poking at her sandwich, their quiet conversation undercutting the noise. Maddie had just said something funny, Blair smiling despite herself—until Cassie approached.
Maddie fell silent and stood to leave.
"She's still mad," Cassie said without looking up.
"You haven't exactly apologized," Blair replied, sliding into the seat.
Blair tilted her head. "So... what's up?"
Cassie leaned in. "If you want to bring down someone that's threatening you, you have to find something to threaten them back."
Blair's eyes lit up. "You're right. But how do we find something that Miranda's afraid of—something your dad hasn't already used?"
"I don't know," Cassie admitted. "But we have to try."
Blair's gaze sharpened. "They must've dug up some dirt on her to win that court case."
Cassie nodded. "Exactly. We can ask the lawyer who defended him. Mr Covey "
"James' dad," Blair whispered. "You're so smart."
"Lucky for us, he actually likes me."
"But," Blair said cautiously, "if there was something useful in those old files, wouldn't Victor have used it already?"
"True," Cassie said, thoughtful now. "But what if this case is bigger now? What if she's coming with something new?"
Blair slowly nodded. "Let's find that file."
"For once," Cassie said, smirking, "we actually have a clue."
---
---
They got home from school with the weight of a secret sitting between them. As soon as they stepped inside, Blair tugged at her tie, already loosening from the day. Cassie was a few steps ahead, slipping off her shoes.
Cassie glanced over her shoulder. "You thinking what I'm thinking?"
Blair raised a brow. "If you're thinking about James… then yes."
"We need a key card," Cassie said. "To sneak into Covey Firm. Maybe there's a legal archive or file room. Something we can dig through about Miranda."
"You think your dad would keep a copy at home?"
Cassie scoffed. "Dad? Never. He's too careful for that."
"Then we ask James."
They exchanged a look, unspoken agreement forming quickly.
---
"Where are you girls going?" Lily called from the upstairs hallway.
Cassie spun around. "Ice cream run. We'll be back before dinner."
Blair tried to play it casual. "Tell Poppy not to eat my cookies."
Minutes later, they were in the car. The driver raised an eyebrow but said nothing when Cassie gave him the address to the college.
---
James, Caleb, and Andrew's apartment smelled like cologne, old pizza, and faint body spray. James opened the door first, surprised. Caleb and Andrew stood behind him, mid-laugh, until they noticed the unexpected guests.
"Well, this is a plot twist," James muttered.
Cassie stepped forward. "We need your key card."
"Excuse me?" Andrew said, cocking his head.
Caleb smirked. "Since when do you two roll deep like this?"
Cassie and Blair exchanged a quick glance.
"We're working on a school project," Cassie said, clearly improvising. "Law-based. I picked Blair as my partner. Deal with it."
James folded his arms. "You need my key card… to Covey?"
Blair lifted her chin. "Just to make research. We're not stealing anything."
James looked at her, amused. "Since when did you start needing favors from me?"
"Since I realized you're the most convenient resource," she snapped.
He leaned slightly against the doorframe, eyeing her. "You've got a sharp mouth, Maybell."
"And you've got a card we need," Blair shot back.
There was a pause. The tension pulled tight, but a grin threatened James's mouth.
"You always this bossy, or just when you're desperate?"
Cassie groaned. "Can we stop the flirting and focus on the key card?"
Caleb choked on his laughter. Andrew shook his head, amused.
James finally reached into his back pocket, tossing the slim card to Cassie. "Fine. But don't let my dad catch you. If you get locked up in a file room somewhere, I'm not coming to save you."
Cassie grinned. "We wouldn't expect you to."
---
Back in the car, Blair held the card between her fingers like it was gold.
"Are we really going to sneak into Covey tonight?" she asked.
Cassie's eyes stayed on the road ahead. "Around 1 a.m., when everyone's asleep."
Blair looked skeptical. "How are we even getting there?"
"I'll text Mary. She can drive us. She owes me anyway."
They nodded, quiet for a while as the car rolled back into the driveway.
---
---
---
Dinner was a silent warzone. Victor chewed quietly. Lily stirred her soup more than she ate it. Cassie sat stiffly, waiting for someone to explain the tension. No one did.
Victor finally cleared his throat. "Tomorrow night is the Quest anniversary gala. Big party. Press will be there. Paparazzi. It's a public image moment."
Lily added with a light smile, "Just remember to smile. We want it to feel like a celebration."
Blair's stomach twisted at the word celebration.
---
Upstairs, Cassie barged straight into Blair's room without knocking. She flopped on the bed, staring at the ceiling.
"Tomorrow is Quest Anniversary Night."
"I know," Blair replied, brushing her fingers through her curls.
Cassie rolled to her side. "It's also the perfect night for Miranda and Travis to go public. All those cameras, the press… if they've got something to expose, that's the night."
Blair turned. "You think they'll actually do it?"
Cassie sat up. "If they're smart, yeah. Bring down the empire on its most glamorous night. Classic drama."
The room went still for a moment.
"We have to get whatever we can before that," Blair said. "Tonight."
Cassie smirked. "I already texted Mary. She's on standby. Get dressed."
---
1:00 a.m.
The mansion was asleep. Doors were shut. Lights dimmed. The only sound was the rhythmic ticking of the antique clock down the hall.
Cassie crept into Blair's room dressed in full black—tight jeans, black hoodie, and her hair slicked back into a bun. Blair was already pulling on her black sneakers, her own hoodie drawn over a sleek ponytail.
They looked at each other in the mirror. Silent. Focused.
"You ready?" Cassie whispered.
Blair nodded. "Let's do it."
---
They moved like shadows through the hall, stepping over creaky spots they'd memorized weeks ago. Down the back stairwell. Past the guest room. Out the side door.
Mary's car idled just outside the gates, engine off, headlights off. She leaned over from the passenger seat and popped the door open when she saw them.
"Y'all are insane," Mary hissed. "But get in."
They drove in silence, the hum of the road underscoring their nerves.
---
1:47 a.m. – Covey Firm
The building loomed like a giant glass beast, windows glinting silver in the moonlight. They crept around to the side, where employees entered.
Cassie slipped the keycard through the scanner. A soft click. The door gave way.
They stepped inside.
The lobby was dark, eerie. Blair's heart hammered.
"Security?" she whispered.
"They rotate shifts. We've got maybe thirty minutes."
They ducked through the hall, past steel elevators, into the stairwell.
Third floor. Legal Archives.
Cassie's flashlight beam swept across drawers and cabinets. Dozens.
"This is insane," Blair whispered.
Cassie started scanning file labels. "Look for anything marked Miranda. Project Astra."
Blair opened drawer after drawer—legal contracts, case briefs, personnel files.
And then she froze.
"Cassie," she breathed, pulling out a thick red folder labeled:
COVFIRM-TRV/A-MIR CONFIDENTIAL | 2021 | DOC. SEALED
Cassie came closer. "Open it."
Inside were court-stamped papers. A restraining order. Medical records. Letters. Emails.
Blair's fingers trembled as she read:
> "This certifies that Miranda Covey (formerly Miranda Blackwell) has been under psychiatric observation following the incident at Summersfield High.
Diagnosis: Borderline Personality Disorder with persistent delusions and fabricated memory implantation.
Patient admitted to forging evidence to implicate multiple students in an abuse case that was later retracted."
Cassie blinked. "Wait. Miranda faked a case?"
Blair flipped through more pages. One email from Victor to Covey Legal:
> "Keep this sealed. If she leaks anything again, we press charges. Her mental record will kill her credibility. Travis is already buying her silence."
They both stood frozen.
Blair's voice was hoarse. "She's unstable… and she's blackmailing them."
Cassie snapped a photo of the documents.
But suddenly—a loud beep echoed in the hall.
Footsteps.
"Shit!" Cassie hissed.
"Security," Blair breathed.
They bolted from the office, flicking off the flashlight and pressing themselves against the walls.
A guard's flashlight beam passed just inches from their hiding spot.
Another beep. The stairwell door opened.
"Come on," Cassie whispered.
They dashed down the opposite hall, pushed through a fire escape, and stumbled into the night.
Mary's car was already rolling toward them. They jumped in, gasping, and she sped off into the shadows of Westbridge.
---
Back in their rooms, they didn't speak much. Both were breathless. Shaken. But satisfied.
Cassie tossed her hoodie to the floor. "We got it."
Blair collapsed into bed. "We actually got it."
They didn't even bother turning off the lights.
Sleep hit them like a freight .
---
The soft gray of early morning spilled through the sheer curtains of Blair's room, casting a drowsy hush over the two girls tangled in a nest of covers. Blair blinked first, her head still humming from the adrenaline of the night before. Cassie's arm was flung carelessly across her waist, their breathing steady, matched—as if the chaos had knit them closer in sleep.
She slowly slipped out of bed, tiptoeing toward the bathroom. The floor was cool beneath her feet, and the cold water on her face sobered her instantly. Moments later, she padded across the hallway to Cassie's room. She pushed the door open slightly.
Cassie sat up on the bed, hair a wild halo, rubbing her eyes.
"Damn," she yawned. "That was a tree."
Blair raised an eyebrow. "Tree?"
"Yeah," Cassie shrugged, dragging her hands through her hair. "Tall, chaotic, and full of unexpected branches. That's what last night was. You good?"
Blair stepped in fully, arms folded. "Who is Travis?"
Cassie's expression dropped immediately. "Travis?" she echoed, like the name tasted stale. "He was Dad's right-hand man back when Covey was still using USBs for backups. Like… everything went through him. Scheduling. Legal filters. Even charity donations." She exhaled sharply. "Then one day he just said he was done. Wanted to 'move on.' No real warning. Dad bought it."
"But now we know he never really left," Blair murmured, voice low. "He just changed sides."
Cassie stood, suddenly pacing. "It's crazy. I used to get birthday presents from that man. He helped Lily pick out my homecoming dress one year." She paused at the window. "People are so damn untrustworthy."
Blair leaned against the dresser. "Either way, we can't just say it. We need solid proof. Something that hits harder than whispers and assumptions."
"You're right," Cassie said. "We've got less than twelve hours before that circus starts. If we're gonna stop Miranda and Travis—"
"We need receipts," Blair finished.
Cassie grabbed her laptop. "We're going digging. No excuses."
The next five hours passed in quiet chaos. Their room transformed into a digital war zone: old news articles, Reddit threads, hidden links, browser tabs open like confetti. Crumbs of crackers dotted the bed. Both girls were locked in—their rivalry forgotten, replaced with the kind of desperation that came from knowing the clock was racing.
Then Blair froze. "Cassie," she whispered. "I found something."
Cassie pushed her chair forward, eyes narrowing. Blair pressed play.
On the screen, an uncensored video flickered to life—grainy but clear enough to make out Jasmine Covey, Miranda's daughter. Seventeen years old. Tear-streaked. Furious.
"My mother is not who you think she is," Jasmine's voice trembled. "She put me in a mental institution when I tried to tell the truth. She told everyone I was unstable. But she's the one who lied. About the money. The donors. The lawsuits. All of it. She… she covered it all up."
Cassie clapped her hand over her mouth. "Holy—"
"We have to save this before it disappears," Blair said, already screen-recording. She plugged in a flash drive, saving everything. "This is our bomb."
They both stared at the screen, adrenaline kicking back in. For the first time, the playing field felt even.
Cassie stood. "Let's eat something. You're shaking."
They made their way downstairs, the sun now fully risen. Lily had left out fruit and croissants. Blair bit into one silently. Their hands still smelled like cheap flash drives and stress.
After breakfast, they went back upstairs—this time not as two girls hiding secrets, but as two girls preparing to explode them. Dresses waited. Hair tools plugged in. The next hours would be chaos. But for now, they had what they needed.
And the storm was coming.
---