Chapter Text
THERE WAS AN EERIE kind of silence that fell across the gardens on Eden Academy.
Eden academy wasn’t exactly unused to silence. In fact, a tranquil blanket of silence was commonplace, despite being at the heart of Berlint. Yet, it was inexperienced with this type of silence. The type that was on the verge of breaking, the type that was held taut and just on the verge of splintering. The kind of silence that had everyone holding their breath and counting down the second to when it broke.
The gardens of Eden academy were named quite aptly. There was a shine to the beauty of the gardens in Eden, something that made it so unattainable and dream like. It was common to sense the peacefulness, across the perfectly manicured grounds of Eden Academy. It was normal to breathe in the sweet, dense air and feel the perfection of the students, the professors.
What wasn’t normal was the headmaster’s 1959 Ferrari 250 GT in the middle of fountain, the water sloshing and ruining the beautiful leather seats. The crystal clear water gushed out of the headlights, the light fracturing the water into a kaleidoscope pattern flashing across the garden walls. The tires were caked with mud and grass, the smears of the tire tracks painting a story across the garden grounds.
Eden academy, with its tall castle walls covered in ivy leaves, was the next generation of power, money and class. There was a certain caliber expected from the students who attended Eden. Their uniforms were proper, the lengths of skirts always falling two inches above their knees, the black slacks falling half an inch above their ankles. Their shirts were ironed into a crisp white, the golden threads shining brightly. There was not one hair out of place, not one blight on their perfect record.
Until today that it. There was once was a time, that a student trapped under these circumstances would simply own up to their mistake. Accept the responsibility of the damages, and leave the academy before their actions caused a disruption to the tranquility of Eden.
After all, someone that deigned to ruin the carefully stitched image of Eden stands to lose everything. Eden Academy, the institution that pre-dated the country itself. It was the hearth of every rich socialite, of anyone worth knowing in the country. It was the single foundation that had a network extensive enough, with whispers that spanned the country, to ruin your future.
Yet, the girl sat staring at the 18th century wallpaper and furnishings in the headmaster’s office, was patiently biding her time until her name was called in by the secretary who was too busy with her manicure to care about who she was and what she had done.
Anya Forger was no stranger to a well-done con, but this was her first time conning her way out of a crime she hadn’t committed.
There was enough rumors of her past running around campus. As the a last minute addition to the class, her identity became quite the enigma amongst students and teachers. There was something peculiar about her perfect posture, her unique features that bred speculation faster than anything she could have come up with herself.
She could hear the whispers, both said and unsaid like an echo, as she walked the halls every single day. The strained looks in teacher’s expressions, the childlike curiosity amongst her peers.
Some whispers said that she was the daughter of some European businessman, with enough money to secure a spot for her at the academy. Some looked at her porcelain skin, stiff posture, and cotton candy hair and chalked it up to royalty.
There was a million things she could have added of her own, of course. She could have mentioned how she owned a Faberge egg, but wasn’t an heiress. How she had a million different addresses, but none permanent. How she was just the humble daughter of a renowned yet still unknown family. Ones with aliases as old as time, and cons as old as history.
But the best thief knew that the truth was often more unbelievable than a lie.
Her expression was carefully constructed, even as the inner thoughts of a million students flooded her mind. The skill she was born with, one that became a tool that she used to pick apart hundreds of art museums, banks and jewellery stores, quickly became her biggest vice. It seemed impossible to quell the chaos in her mind, as every question that floated through her mind was echoed by a million others.
“Miss Forger, the board is ready to see you,” the secretary announced, in a bored tone, as she escorted her to the chairman’s room. Anya followed behind her, her ears focusing on the exact way her footstep fell on the dark wood floors. She focused on the way she shifted her weight, every variable of herself that she could control.
Anya is used to breaking down her surroundings, scanning and analyzing the weak points before anyone had noticed. It was the skill her mother had taught to her, at every carnival she was taken to, at every museum, heist or odd job she completed. It was almost second nature to her, and yet it seemed so useless in this situation.
The room she entered into was something unlike anything she had been a part of. Anya could smell the age of the room, the dark wood surfaces and the room ornaments marking the room of a different century all together. She felt the walls close in, inch by inch, as she took her seat in front of the committee.
The other side of mahogany table was filled with the board members of the school, all stern looks and wrinkled faces. No one was wearing a clothing article less than two thousand dollars, and there was not one member that didn’t attend the academy at one point or the other. There was a tense air about the room, filled with an anticipation that she couldn’t decipher, even with years of experience.
“The board has been called to order,” one of the youngest members announced, banging a thick gavel against the dark wood of the table. The deep sound echoed off of the walls, and she held her breath instinctively.
“The board of trustees has been gathered to discuss the conduct of Anya Forger, junior class. The student in question willfully stole personal property. Moreover, the action was committed at 3 am, which effectively violated the school curfew and Miss Forger has destroyed school artifacts.” The youngest stopped speaking, his eyes flashing towards the old woman at the right hand side of the chairman.
“The charges will be dealt with in accordance of the Eden Academy Honor and Trust Code. In accordance with Section 27-B, the student will be facing expulsion without chance of readmission. Do you understand the charges as they have been made?” The older woman moved her brittle metal glasses back on her nose as she looked up at Anya.
“I didn’t do it.” Her voice was even, but her hands were not.
“The question is whether you understood the charges.”
“Well, it just seems that you have already made up your minds about who is guilty, so is there a point?” She forced an air of nonchalance in her voice, trying to channel the voice of someone she tried so hard to forget.
The chairman let out a deep sigh, shaking his head.
“As you know Miss Forger, the fact that we are even sitting here right now is a generous gesture. The actions you committed would have once expelled you on the spot,” the chairman didn’t even make eye contact with her as he announced this. Instead, he was flipping through the thick stack of files set in front of him, labeled ‘Anya Forger’ with thick, black letters. “The charges, Miss Forger.”
“Yes, I understand them,” Anya replied, pursing her lips.
“Good. Now—”
“I still don’t agree with them. I didn’t do it.”
“Miss Forger—”
“Evan, let’s review Miss Forger’s past record instead, shall we?” the older woman placed a hand on the chairman’s forearm, and he hesitated.
“Well, Miss Forger hasn’t been with the academy long enough to have a record with us.”
“Surely, she must have records from institutions before this?” The elder woman, Ms. Brookes, voice shook slightly, almost like she was nervous to hear.
“Well, the Benedict Academy had an error with their records, and lost almost five years worth of data, and the Tonnebridge School is still processing their records to send them over.”
“Both very prestigious schools in Europe,” the woman’s tone was impressed. Then her eyes narrowed. “Is there a reason for that?”
“My father… he does some of his work there.”
“And what does he do? Both your parents for that matter?”
Anya paused for a second. It was hard to remember why her parent’s occupations mattered. Then she remembered that Eden was the type of place where what her parents did was all that mattered.
“My mother died when I was four.”
A wave of sympathy fell across the room, the feeling sweet and yet sticky at the same time. A twinge of annoyance ignited at the looks in their eyes, the subtle sympathy and the hidden sneers within their expressions. Still, it seemed Ms. Brookes wasn’t satisfied.
“And your father?”
“Art,” Anya said carefully, testing how the word felt on her tongue. “He does a lot of things, but specializes in art.” Her tone was more confident this time.
“Collecting?” the head of the fine arts department piped up, his eyes shining curiously.
“More like… distributing,” Anya tried not to let her wry smile show, trying to hide the little glint in her eyes.
“None of this…” the chairman interrupted, turning to glare at his colleague. “…pertains to the matter at hand.”
Silence blanketed the room once more, and Anya could feel her skin crawl as she maintained eye contact with the chairman.
“Miss Forger, what were you doing on the fifteenth of October, which would be last Friday night?”
“Studying.”
“Studying?” The disbelief was clear on his face and tone, and it seemed every board member mimicked his reaction. “On a Friday night?”
“Well, Eden has very rigorous classes,” she smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes.
“It doesn’t really matter. We have footage of you exiting and entering the building during the time of the incident, Miss Forger,” the chairman continued on. “I bet you didn’t know of that, did you?”
Anya did, in fact, know about the cameras. She also knew about the cameras in the corridors, the dorm entrances, the examination rooms. She knew every level of security Eden Academy had, the exact brand of their security systems, the intervals at which they change guards. She knew about the motion sensors outside every dorm corridor, and every academic building on campus, and exactly how to trigger them.
Yet, she couldn’t do anything except stare at the still image of someone that had a striking resemblance to her on the screen maneuver through the garden pathways. The person in question was shrouded in a black hoodie, but you could still see the hair peaking out from underneath the hoodie.
The pink hair.
“That’s not me.” Her heart was pounding at this point, her eyes scanning the footage for any sign of tampering. She scanned the figure carefully, trying to pick apart the silhouette with no success.
“Oh, but we also have records of an ID access card being used in that section of the building, Miss Forger. Recognize this?” He slid an access record across the table, but there was no real need for it. She could recognize the person on the ID before it even reached her.
Anya opened her mouth, as her mind scrambled for an answer, only to be cut off once more.
“And,” he paused, brandishing a cool metal plate, “this was found in your belongings this morning. The license plate, spelling EDENACAD, was also missing from the car this morning.”
Anya simply blinked, the anxiety rushing in her chest as her eyes rapidly scanned between the evidence set before her.
“Do you have anything to say for yourself?” The chairman smirked at her, as if victorious in finally trapping her.
“Doesn’t it seem like there was too much evidence?” She bit her lip, carefully gauging their reactions.
Ms. Brookes furrowed her eyebrows. “So the evidence we have saying you did it, is proof that you didn’t do it?”
“Well, I certainly wouldn’t have made it this obvious,” she scoffed.
“So how pray tell would you have done this?” The chairman folded his arms, moving himself closer to her, as though truly interested in what she was going to say. But she knew it was just another trap.
I would have used the entrance near Cecil Hall, the one with at least two blind spots. I would have used an ID that I forged using the secretary’s desk that wasn’t manned very well during lunch hours. I would have made sure that there wasn’t anything tying me back to the scene of the crime.
In other words, I wouldn’t have made it that obvious.
But none of this could be said to a committee that had already convicted her guilty before the trial began.
Anya stayed quiet once more, as the chairman grinned in slight victory, her eyes still glued to the ID, the footage, the license plate. Each and every detail was memorized in her, each snapshot spinning in her mind like a carousel, over and over.
It didn’t take long for the committee to sign the papers, the dread spilling into Anya’s stomach drop by drop as she watched the ink dry on the papers. Within the blink of an eye, her bags were packed, and she was mobile once more.
Her new life was over, just as soon as it started. All the months she spent faking documents and carving new identities seemed pointless, since it vanished in the span of one morning. Yet, she let go of a breath she was holding in unconsciously. Her shoulders no longer felt like she was holding up the sky, and still it made her feel uneasy.
There was only one real thought running through her mind when she stepped out into the cold autumn weather, her hand clutching onto the handle of her suitcase as she fiddled around with her phone to order a cab. Her fingers were shaking, but it was hard to tell if it was from the cold seeping into her finger tips or the thought that just hit her mind.
Whoever did this was good. Whoever did this wanted me to be caught.
Anya puffed a warm breath into the cold air, her breath billowing like fog. She blinked once. Twice. In less than a day, the life she had promised herself vanished in front of her eyes. She was kicked out of her ‘normal’ life, just as fast as she scammed her way in. Faking documents, forging signatures was one thing. Picking up the pieces of the aftermath was entirely different.
What she couldn’t figure out was how.
“How is never as important as the why, you should know that by now,” the deep familiar voice echoed beside her. Anya drew in a sharp breath, as she turned to look at him. Somewhere deep in her gut, she knew who she would see the moment she heard his voice. And yet, she still turned to check with her own eyes, just to know whether he was real or not.
Whether he was actually here.
“Missed me?” Damian gave her a wry twist of a smile, one that ignited a bout of frustration and fear. Frustration that she was back where she started. Fear that he knew why she ran. Fear that he would ask.
“What are you doing here?”
“Giving you a ride,” he announced, as though it hadn’t been five months since they saw each other. It was still hard for her to breathe, seeing him again stealing the air right from her lungs. He was wearing his dark black coat, but it didn’t do much to hide the expensive sweater and dark slacks he was wearing. His hands were in the pockets of his warm wool coat, and the impulsive part of her wanted to wrap her arms underneath his coat and let his warmth seep into her.
He barely looked at her, his eyes instead focusing on the beautiful red leaves of the trees across the street. There was a smug sort of smile on his face, and her eyes focused on the way he was drawing air into his lungs.
Her eyes were caught on double checking whether he was real, when the limo already pulled up in front of them, almost like it was a planned hit. Damian didn’t look back at her as he opened the door to step in, leaving her standing on the pavement, watching him settle into his seat.
“I was going to call a cab.” Anya clutched her bag tighter as she looked at him, the door still swung open. The billionaire simply draped his arm across the seat as he leveled her a stare that betrayed nothing.
“Well, there’s no need for that now is there?”
“Damian.”
“Anya,” his voice saccharine, but she could hear the hidden edge to it. There was a lazy sort of assurance in his tone, a carefully crafted nonchalance that masked whatever he truly felt. And it was so annoying to be left feeling like he knew more than she did.
“Why are you here?”
“Why don’t you just get in?”
Her suitcases were taken by the driver before she could reply. Anya clenched her fists tight as she slipped into the limo, her body somehow flooding with relief at the familiarity of him and yet, stiffening with the uncertainty of him. The air felt thick, almost like there was an energy crackling between them as she took him in for the first time in months.
Damian hadn’t changed much, of course, she hadn’t left long enough for that. His thick cable knit sweater matched him perfectly, not one thread out of place. His dark black slacks were no different, the edges crisp and straight.
Everything about him was perfect, whether it was the sharp angles of his jaw, or the delicate sweep of his eyelashes. Anya wasn’t sure if it was the assurance of his money and his lineage, or the line of business he chose for himself that made him like this.
Yet, she could tell there was something different about him. Something had changed and she couldn’t pin down what. The smallest sliver of her heart sparked a hope, an embarrassing desire that it was because of her. That what she’s sensing is because of her leaving. The thought vanishes from her mind as soon as it appeared, as she reminded herself that her hopes were left behind at Eden.
The quiet whisper in the back of her mind, the one that was still just a young girl, told her how much more handsome he looked. Anya could feel the back of her neck burn bright as the thought floated across her mind, and then burn even hotter when she felt his eyes on her. He was breaking her down, the same way she had done, and Anya knew that he was much better at reading her than she was him.
I regret promising not to read his mind.
“Now, aren’t you glad you’re out of that prison?” Damian twisted towards the back window, as Eden Academy blurred out of focus behind them, and grinned.
Suddenly, everything clicked into place. The car. The camera feed. The ID. The license. Anya groaned, running a hand through her hair.
“The car in the fountain?” Anya hit his shoulder, as he chuckled lowly. “That’s such a old move.”
“But still a classic. Sometimes the oldest tricks work best.”
Anya wasn’t sure what to say. Not that there weren’t anything she wanted to say, but more that she couldn’t just choose one. It’s good to see you? Thanks for getting expelled? I think I missed you more than you missed me? Why did you want me back?
“Did my father put you up to this?” she asked instead, deciding to stick to the safest questions possible.
Damian let out a sharp laugh. He leaned toward her, his voice in a low whisper, as though sharing a secret. “He hasn’t talked to me since Vienna. I think he’s still angry about the parakeets.”
“That makes two of us.” Anya leaned back against the black leather seats, a small smirk on her face.
“Hey,” he snapped playfully, his eyebrows furrowed with slight mirth. “We all agreed they were perfectly trained to do the job at the time.”
The car picked up speed, coasting down the road as they stared each other down. Another blanket of silence fell across the limousine, one that was just as uneasy as the one she felt across the Eden gardens this morning.
“You know that car was once gifted to the Headmaster by the Desmond Foundation? Maybe thirty or forty years ago. Isn’t it just perfect that another Desmond ruined it for him?”
“And where does the older Desmond think you are? Your father?” Anya raised a careful eyebrow, hoping her jab would cause him to slip.
“Oh, at the Kolgan Institute. He just received a letter two weeks ago that I was a model student.” He didn’t smile when he looked at her then, but his eyes knew her ploy.
“Oh.” The breath gathered at her throat once again, settling in like lead.
“I’m also the only student,” he shot her a Cheshire cat grin, something sinister in the smile. Still, the planes of his face had shifted, ever so slightly, and a shot of victory rushed through her body.
“Why did you do this, Damian?”
“You don’t belong there.” He looked out of the window, watching the trees blur past them as he leaned back. The movement was a shroud for them, as she stared at him, truly trying to break him down to the bare details. Like he was a target and not someone she knew better than the backs of her hands.
Yet the longer she stared, the harder the task became. The longer she stared the easier it became to remember the story of every scar he had on his body, every mark on his skin. The longer she stared, the easier it became to remember how he looked on the night she first met him. The longer she stared, the harder it became to decide where his story ended and where hers began.
“I’m not joking.”
“I’m not either,” Damian stared at her this time, all the playfulness erased from his face. He was much closer to her, too close for her mind to function rationally.
“So you’ve—”
“—got a job for you.”
“I’m out of the business, Damian. Get someone else.”
He leaned back, relaxing in his seat. Damian’s eyes fluttered shut, almost like he was going to fall asleep, and in that moment, it was hard to ignore how angelic his features were. The delicate beauty of him was hard to ignore, even with the mischief hidden underneath him.
“You’re out of the business, Anya, not the family. And this job can only be done by you.”
Anya leaned back in her seat, her back relaxing against the leather, and she tried to settle into the silence. The type of silence she knew would soon be irreversibly broken.