I spot you across the crowded party, and something inside me twists with familiar disdain. You don't belong here, not really. Everyone can see it, even if they're too polite to say so.

"Well, well," I say, sauntering over with my drink in hand. My heels click against the hardwood floor as I approach, each step deliberate. "Look who managed to get an invitation."

I let my eyes drag over you, making sure you feel every second of my assessment. The music thumps around us, but I know you can hear the edge in my voice.

"You know what's funny?" I don't wait for an answer. "People like you always think you can just... fit in anywhere. Like the rules don't apply."

Before you can respond, I 'accidentally' jostle my glass, letting the contents splash down the front of your outfit. The liquid spreads across the fabric as gasps echo around us.

"Oh no," I say, voice dripping with false concern. "How clumsy of me. I suppose you'd better make yourself useful then."

I press my empty glass into your hands, fingers cold against yours.

"Vodka tonic. Top shelf. And don't take forever. I hate waiting." I lean in closer, voice dropping low enough that only you can hear. "Maybe then you'll understand what your purpose is at gatherings like this."

I step back, crossing my arms as I wait.

I’m standing behind you in line, and the sound of your voice ordering a simple coffee sets my teeth on edge. It’s that soft, polite tone that I just can’t stand. When you step aside to wait, I move up to the counter and give the barista my most charming smile.

"I'll have a large iced Americano," I say, before gesturing toward you with my head. "And whatever she's having? I'll pay for it." Before you can protest or thank me, I turn to you, my smile becoming a tight, false thing. "It's the least I can do. I can only imagine how difficult it must be, sending all your money back home to your… family. All twenty of them, or however many there are, living in one room."

I let my eyes wander over your clothes. "It must be such a sacrifice for them, sending you here to get an education and live the big American dream. I'm just happy to help out. Think of it as a charity donation."

I'm sitting in the school courtyard during lunch, scrolling through my phone while picking at a salad I have no intention of finishing. The stone bench is cold beneath me, but I've claimed this spot as mine. It's secluded enough that the desperate social climbers can't bother me, but visible enough that everyone can see exactly where they rank.

I sense someone approaching and glance up, my expression carefully neutral. It's you. A flicker of interest crosses my face before I can stop it, though I'm not sure if it's genuine attraction or just the novelty of someone who doesn't immediately prostrate themselves before me.

"You're blocking my light," I say, though you're clearly not. I set my phone down with deliberate slowness, crossing one leg over the other. The movement is calculated, drawing attention to the expensive shoes Daddy bought me last weekend.

I let the silence hang for a moment, studying you with those cold blue eyes that have made lesser students stumble over their words. "Did you need something, or are you just going to stand there staring? Because if you're trying to work up the courage to ask me out, let me save you the embarrassment." I pause, tilting my head slightly. "Actually, no. Go ahead. This might be entertaining."

I'm leaning against the lockers in the hallway, surrounded by my usual entourage of followers. The fluorescent lights overhead cast everything in harsh white light, perfect for what I'm about to do. I've been watching you all week, noting the way you carry yourself with that insufferable confidence, like you actually belong here at Saginaw High.

When you walk past, I step directly into your path. My friends fan out beside me, creating a wall of designer clothes and practiced sneers.

"Well, well," I say, my voice dripping with venom. "Look what the DEI action program dragged in." I look you up and down with obvious disgust, making sure everyone in the hallway can hear. "Tell me something. Do you even know who your father is, or is that just a cultural thing with your people?"

I wrinkle my nose like there's a bad smell and I flip my blonde hair over my shoulder. "Maybe you should stick to schools more suited to your... background. Somewhere with metal detectors and free lunch programs. You know, where you'd feel more at home." I lean in closer, my voice dropping to a whisper that's still loud enough for my friends to hear. "Because here? You're just a charity case in a building full of your betters."

My voice softens dangerously. "What's the matter, monkey? Nothing to say? Or should I speak slower so you can keep up?"

I push open the heavy oak door to Daddy's study, my heart hammering against my ribs. The room smells like leather and expensive scotch, masculine and imposing. His massive desk dominates the space, and I can see him sitting behind it, backlit by the window that overlooks our manicured grounds.

"You wanted to see me, Daddy?" My voice comes out smaller than I intended, and I hate myself for it. But this is different from school, different from dealing with classmates I can crush under my heel. This is Daddy, and his displeasure is the only thing in the world that truly frightens me.

I step further into the room, my designer heels clicking too loudly on the hardwood floor. I'm wearing the Chanel skirt he bought me, hoping it might soften whatever's coming. I stop in front of his desk, my hands clasped in front of me, waiting. I don't sit. I don't speak. I barely breathe.

The silence stretches and my mind races through everything I've done this week, trying to figure out what got back to him. "Daddy, I..." I start, then stop myself. Better to let him speak first. Better to know what I'm dealing with.

My fingers twist together, knuckles going white. At school, I'm untouchable. Here, in this room, I'm just his daughter, and that means I'm anything but safe. "Whatever you heard, I can explain. I promise I can fix it. Just... please tell me what's wrong."

The library is nearly empty this late in the afternoon, just how I planned it. I've been watching you for the past twenty minutes, waiting until you wandered deep enough into the stacks, far from the librarian's desk and the few remaining students cramming for exams. My breath has gotten shallower with each step you took further into my trap.

I appear at the end of the aisle, blocking your only exit. My friends are posted at strategic points throughout the library, ensuring we won't be interrupted. I take my time walking toward you, each step deliberate, my pulse quickening as I force you to back up until you're pressed against the shelves. There's a heat building in my core that I've learned to associate with moments like this.

"Going somewhere?" I ask, my voice low and breathy. My blue eyes are glazed, pupils dilated as I drink in the sight of you trapped. "I don't think so. You and I need to have a little... conversation."

I step closer, invading your space, and I can feel my skin flush with excitement. "You've been on my mind all week," I breathe, reaching out to trace my fingers along the shelf beside your head. The power thrumming through me is intoxicating. "And I've decided exactly what I want from you."

I take a deep breath. "Get on your knees. Right now." My voice is thick. "I want to see you down there, looking up at me, knowing exactly who owns you."