Layla was glad the school had a uniform. She didn't care much for clothes, or anything else for that matter. But as she looked around her hotel room, she wondered whether to pack something else for the sake of it, just to make her backpack feel a little less light.

There was no point. If she needed something, she'd just have her stylist send it to the Academy.

She then headed to the back entrance of the hotel she was staying at before nodding to the awaiting doormen and stepping outside.

"Morning, Pete," she muttered, acknowledging her driver who smiled at her as she slid into the car.

She turned back to the hotel. She had already forgotten its name.

The building disappeared from view and her hands instinctively went to plug her headphones in. But even music couldn't soothe her troubled thoughts.

Why had her grandfather decided to waltz back in to her life so abruptly after all these years? She was just starting to get used to the silence.

And just when her career was taking off. Though she had to admit that a small part of her was glad to get a break from the industry and the cameras. Maybe she could finally show a little personality away from the watchful gaze of her manager, but not too much that the press would took notice.

Her grandfather's connection to this particular school spoke volumes, as did his partnership with the Chief Headmaster. It was just a shame that it hadn't come in useful the first time she was sent away.

Of course, she couldn't protest. Her life was no longer in her control. She had to learn to accept it.

But why now?

A dozen more unanswered questions flooded through her and with a sinking feeling, Layla knew they would remain that way. Unanswered.

Her eyes fell on her phone as she realised that she was better off researching the Academy on her own.
After all, it was a boarding school.

The school operated on a strange basis. Once enrolled, students were chosen to be placed in the WISDOM programme, a unique class for students who showed clear talent in their respective subjects and exceeded expectations. That was what the brochure had said anyway.

That wasn't the only strange part. She had been placed in the programme before she had even arrived. She was doing well with her tutor but she didn't think it was enough to rank her top of the year. Especially at a school that was so selective, Layla wondered how many parents would have afforded the fees.

There was even a prep year - an extra year where students could benefit from courses which would either get them into top universities or help them break into the industry.

It was obviously a place where only the most wealthy could send their children, not just for the quality but also because they wouldn't have to see them for most of the year. It was sad but they simply didn't have the time.

The neighbourhoods were becoming more and more affluent until they ended up in Carneige Hill. Layla had to admit that the location of the school was ideal. The campus was situated in a well of seclusion which would make it much harder for the press to get to. The owner of the Academy was obviously particular about privacy.

They neared the large bronze gates which slowly swung open so they could pass through. She looked around and she didn't have a lot of time to admire the view for at that moment, a large Range Rover almost crashed into them as it sped across campus, leaving the laughter of half a dozen teenage boys behind.

"Are you all right, Miss?" Pete asked as he turned to look at her with concern. Layla nodded swiftly, glad for her shades which hid the fear in her eyes. Her breathing returned to normal yet the knots in her stomach tightened. She hated that her fear of cars was starting to resurface.

By the time they had parked, she had sunk into her seat, her body's refusal to move overcoming her mind.

"Right," Layla mumbled as Pete cleared his throat minutes later.
She glanced at him to see him smiling at her but she could also the twinge of sympathy in his shrunken eyes.

She took her backpack before thanking Pete once again and looked around campus. What the gates had tried so hard to mask was quickly exposed for those willing to pay. The campus itself looked like a picturesque village, with at least a dozen marble buildings which towered above all else.

Despite being in a modern setting, it managed to keep the beauty of nature with trees lining the streets and flower beds scattered across various areas. Yet the centrepiece shone the brightest; a fountain whose contents merged into a multitude of colours under the treacherous sun. There were scarcely any people about and she realised that classes had already begun.

In trepidation, Layla approached the monumental building that was now her home. The name stood out before all else: Wentworth Academy, and below that in Italian:

Anatomia per quelli sopra il resto

"Anatomy for those above the rest," Layla translated.

A cold feeling overtook her despite the warm day, as she looked upon the building in unease. What should have been a somewhat inviting affair seemed to only have the opposite effect. So this was the school so many talked about.

The school many would die for. The school many had died for.

The security cameras that simultaneously pointed at her certainly didn't help matters. The reality of the situation halted her as her mind travelled to a part she had tried so hard to hide, displaying only her vulnerability.

But this was his school. The school owned by the man that owned her life.

She couldn't afford to be vulnerable. Not here. Not now.

Ignoring her nerves, Layla Edwards took a deep breath. She had survived worse.