The uproar couldn't be silenced.
By morning, Queen's Crest was trending for all the wrong reasons. The name that used to sparkle in gold-plated brochures was now being chewed alive on the internet. "The Providence Leak," one headline screamed. Another called it "The Royal Collapse."
The air on campus felt different like the oxygen had been edited. The once-sacred walls were alive with whispers, not lessons. Laughter had turned sharp, and glances carried warning labels. Within hours, students had drawn invisible battle lines.
You could feel it in the cafeteria. the east wing filled with Adrian's people, faces lit with righteous fire, muttering about justice and revolution. The west side huddled near the fountain, defenders of the Headmistress, whispering about fake news and betrayal.
Amara didn't sit with either. She didn't even show up. She spent the morning in her dorm, scrolling through screenshots of the leaked files on her phone. Every line she read made her stomach twist tighter.
Names. Codes. Dates. "Selected Candidates." "Compliance Assessment." "Termination Probability."
She wanted to cry. But crying would mean stopping. And stopping wasn't in her blood.
---
By afternoon, the chaos had evolved.
Videos were everywhere. students reading the files aloud on TikTok, blurred screenshots posted to burner accounts, gossip blogs spreading it faster than wildfire. Queen's Crest had gone viral. And not in a cute way.
One girl, Zara collapsed during morning assembly. Heart rate spiked, breathing gone. She was quietly removed, "transferred" that same evening. No explanation, no goodbye. Her bed empty. Her locker cleared. Her face taken off the House Honor Board before breakfast.
The message was loud: silence, or vanish.
---
By sunrise, the parents arrived.
Adrian watched from the art room window as black SUVs rolled through the front gates like an invading army. The campus looked like a high-end hostage zone chauffeurs, lawyers, women in oversized sunglasses, men with voices sharp enough to cut glass.
They didn't come to find truth. They came to buy it.
The assembly hall, usually home to perfect choirs and grand announcements, was transformed overnight into a courtroom with microphones.
Name tags. Reporters. Armed security. Streaming equipment. The works.
The Headmistress stood near the corner, makeup cracked, eyes dull. She didn't even sit in the center seat, that spot belonged to the Ministry of Education's rep, a Child Welfare officer, and a silent agent from the National Intelligence Agency.
The agent had no name tag. He didn't need one. His presence screamed authority, the kind that didn't knock twice.
Amara and Toni sat together near the back. They weren't supposed to be there, but let's just say evidence buys you access.
"This isn't a scandal," Toni whispered. "It's an empire falling apart."
Amara's gaze stayed fixed on the stage. "Then let's make sure it crashes all the way down."
---
Adrian's turn came fast.
He walked to the front like a soldier stepping into the crossfire. Shirt slightly wrinkled, sleeves rolled, chin raised.
The Ministry rep adjusted her glasses. "You understand the gravity of your accusations, Mr. Maduako?"
"I do." His voice didn't shake. "And I can prove every single word."
He placed a flash drive on the table. "Start with the file named Blackcards. It contains the student filtering algorithm, how they picked which girls would lead, and which ones would vanish quietly."
He didn't look at the Headmistress, but she flinched anyway.
The projector blinked to life. Rows of names filled the screen. Each tagged with chilling labels: "Obedient," "Resistant," "High Risk," "Unstable."
Gasps rippled across the hall like a wave crashing against stone.
One father shot to his feet. "My daughter's on that list! What kind of sick experiment is this?"
The agent finally spoke. His voice was steady. Almost gentle. "Some of you were informed. Some of you weren't. But make no mistake, Project Providence was real. It's been operating for more than twenty years."
The room fractured into chaos.
The Headmistress rose, trembling. "I followed orders-"
"No," Adrian snapped. "You followed power."
A silence fell, so thick it felt like the walls might shatter under it.
---
By nightfall, the Ministry issued an official suspension. Queen's Crest was shut down until further notice.
Investigators moved in. The press was locked out. Phones confiscated.
But the internet doesn't forget, and screenshots don't die. The story had already taken root in the world outside their gates.
Amara sat in the common room, the fireplace cold. She hadn't eaten all day. Toni sat beside her, mug of tea untouched, eyes hollow.
"It's all burning," Toni murmured.
Amara nodded slowly. "Good. Let it."
The door creaked open. Adrian stepped in, holding a sealed folder. "One last piece," he said.
Toni frowned. "What now?"
"The final phase of Project Providence. The part they never got to."
Amara unfolded the papers carefully. Her eyes skimmed the text, and her expression shifted from confusion to horror.
These weren't student files.
They were future contracts predetermined marriages, arranged alliances, political appointments, even medical notes. Every girl's life, mapped like data in a spreadsheet.
"They wanted to decide who we marry," Toni whispered. "Who we become."
Amara's hand clenched the page until it tore. "They wanted to own us."
Adrian looked up, voice low. "Every. Single. Choice."
Then, the sound. Tires screeching outside the dorms.
Headlights flashed through the windows.
Another convoy. Not parents this time. Black cars, tinted windows, and men in suits that didn't belong to the Ministry.
Toni whispered, "That's not the press, is it?"
Adrian didn't answer. He didn't have to.
Amara stood, eyes sharp as glass. "They're not coming to fix this."
"No," he said. "They're coming to erase it."
The floor hummed faintly beneath their feet. The silence before the next storm.
---
AUTHOR'S NOTE
Let's breathe for a second, yeah?
That was a lot. Secrets blowing open, power structures cracking, people vanishing like smoke. Feels like the kind of story that sticks under your skin, right?
You're probably wondering if Amara's going to make it out alive, if Toni will ever stop shaking, if Adrian's bravery is going to save them or bury them. Honestly? I don't know anymore. These kids stopped listening to me a long time ago. I'm just documenting the wreckage.
What's happening in Queen's Crest isn't just fiction. it's reflection. A mirror to the systems that love control more than they love truth. You think this kind of manipulation doesn't happen in real life? Look closer. The uniforms might change, but the games stay the same.
Still, I promise you this: the story isn't over. Not by a long shot. This calm you're feeling right now? It's fake. Temporary. The kind of quiet that comes before something bigger crashes down.
Keep your seatbelt fastened, and your flashlight close.
We're going deeper.
See you in Chapter 22.