Chapter 6 Queen Bee’s Wrath

Case File #06

Victim: Ophelia Ashby

Primary Suspect: Maverick Beaumont

Witness: Azalea Ashcroft

Location: St. Jude’s Academy, Student Lounge & Courtyard

The sound of footsteps on the basement stairs had forced Maverick to pull Azalea into the dark archives, his hand firm over her mouth until the night monitor passed. He had vanished into the night seconds later, leaving his warning echoed in her mind: They know you're the only loose end.

By the next morning, the mist had turned into a gray drizzle. The campus was suffocating under a blanket of paranoia, but nowhere was the tension thicker than in the North Wing Student Lounge.

Azalea sat at one of the study tables in the corner, her laptop open in front of her. She was frantically trying to organize her class notes, but her mind kept drifting back to Maverick’s voice echoing in the dark archives—They know you're the only loose end.

"Look who decided to show her face."

The sharp, haughty voice cut through the murmur of the lounge.

Azalea looked up as Penelope Laurent strolled across the rug, surrounded by three of her high-society followers. Penelope was dressed in a pristine white tweed blazer, her golden hair styled into flawless waves. With Ophelia gone, Penelope had stepped effortlessly into the vacant throne of St. Jude’s Queen Bee—and she was hungry for a target.

Penelope stopped in front of Azalea’s table, crossing her arms as a cruel, dismissive smile spread across her lips.

"I'm trying to study, Penelope," Azalea said quietly, keeping her tone completely neutral as she reached to close her notebook.

"Study?" Penelope scoffed, her laugh high-pitched and mocking. "You scholarship charity cases really have no shame, do you? Ophelia isn't even in the ground yet, and you're sitting here acting like nothing happened."

Several students at nearby tables turned to watch, whispering in low tones.

"I had nothing to do with what happened to Ophelia," Azalea replied, her voice firm, though her pulse began to race.

"Didn't you?" Penelope stepped closer, her heels clicking sharply against the floor. "Everyone knows you were wandering around the South Tower right before she fell. The police should be looking at the low-class free-loaders who don't belong here instead of harassing elite families."

"Penelope, leave her alone," Zoe’s voice rang out from across the room as she marched over, her eyes flashing behind her glasses. "Lea didn't do anything!"

"Stay out of this, Zoe," Penelope snapped without even looking at her. She turned her gaze back onto Azalea, leaning over the table until she was inches away. "You think because you pass a few exams you get to walk these halls like you're one of us? You're a leech, Ashcroft. A charity project."

Before Azalea could stand up, Penelope’s hand shot out.

With a deliberate, brutal swipe, Penelope slammed Azalea’s open laptop off the edge of the table.

The computer hit the hard floor with a sickening CRACK. The casing shattered at the corner, and the glowing screen flickered violently before going completely black.

Gasping, Azalea dropped to her knees, her hands trembling as she picked up the broken laptop. The hard drive—containing three years of her academic work, her scholarship essays, and her private research notes—was completely dead.

"Oh, dear," Penelope laughed, looking down at Azalea with fake sympathy. "Clumsy me. But don't worry, you won't be needing those notes for long anyway. My father sits on the disciplinary board. By this afternoon, I'll have your scholarship revoked for inciting panic during a murder investigation."

Tears of pure rage and helplessness burned at the corners of Azalea’s eyes. She clutched the broken laptop to her chest, feeling the crushing weight of how easy it was for the wealthy elite to destroy her life with a single gesture.

"You can't do that," Azalea whispered, her voice wavering.

"I can, and I will," Penelope smirked, raising her chin arrogantly. "Who's going to stop me? Your poor family? You don't have a voice in this school, Ashcroft. You're nothing."

"She isn't nothing."

The atmosphere in the lounge plummeted into a sudden, suffocating freeze.

The low chatter in the room died instantly. Penelope’s smirk faltered as every student in the lounge turned toward the door.

Maverick stood in the doorway.

He moved into the room with effortless, predatory grace, his hands casually tucked into his trousers pockets. He didn't yell. He didn't raise his voice. He walked straight past the frozen crowd, stopping two inches from Penelope.

The sheer aura of danger radiating off him made Penelope instinctively take a step back. Penelope held her ground, but the color was visibly draining from her face.

"Maverick..." Penelope stammered, trying to maintain her composure. "This doesn't concern you. She's a scholarship—"

"Quiet," Maverick said smoothly.

The single word cut through the room like a steel blade.

Maverick didn't look down at Azalea on the floor, nor did he offer her a hand. His piercing eyes were fixed entirely on Penelope, unblinking and devoid of any humanity.

"Your father’s real estate firm," Maverick murmured, his low voice carrying clearly in the dead silence of the room. "They're currently seeking a forty-million-dollar funding renewal from the Beaumont Foundation for the North Harbor project."

Penelope went rigid, her lips parting slightly in shock. "What... what does that have to do with this?"

"The approval meeting is at two o'clock today," Maverick continued, his tone terrifyingly casual, as if discussing the weather. "If I see you in the same corridor as Ashcroft again, or if her scholarship is so much as mentioned in a board meeting... I make one phone call. My father pulls the funding, your father’s firm goes bankrupt by sunset, and your family's social status vanishes before the weekend."

Penelope’s chest heaved as horror washed over her. She stared at Maverick, searching his face for any sign of a bluff, but found only the cold, unyielding reality of a man who could crush her life without a second thought.

"You... you wouldn't," Penelope whispered, her voice trembling violently.

Maverick didn't answer. He simply stared down at her, his expression as unreadable as stone.

Unable to bear the suffocating pressure, Penelope turned on her heel, her confidence completely shattered, and fled the lounge, her followers scrambling after her in utter humiliation.

Silence hung heavy over the room.

Maverick finally shifted his gaze down to Azalea, who was still sitting on the floor, holding her broken laptop. He didn't offer a gentle smile. He didn't ask if she was okay.

"Get up, Ashcroft," Maverick said softly, his eyes trapping hers for a long, heavy second before he turned and walked out into the corridor.

As Azalea pulled herself up, her heart pounding wildly, Zoe rushed over to her side, completely speechless.

Azalea looked toward the doorway where Maverick had vanished, her mind reeling. He had just threatened to destroy one of the most powerful families at St. Jude's to protect her—a scholarship girl he barely knew.

And as Azalea looked down at her shattered laptop, her phone buzzed in her pocket.

She pulled it out with trembling fingers. It was an anonymous text message from an unknown number:

“He can’t protect you everywhere. Look behind you.”