She exhaled, grateful. It felt like she had been holding her breath for minutes.
Her capsule was waiting — a sleek, silver pod hovering seamlessly outside the terrace gate. Aria stepped in, and the doors sealed with a whisper, enclosing her in a bubble of cool air and soft ambient lighting.
Finally... a moment alone.
Or so she thought.
Midway through the ascent, a soft chime echoed.
Boarding Request Detected — Solara Tier Authorization.
Aurora Waldorf seeks to join your capsule.
Aria blinked at the prompt.
Her instinct? Private, please.
But curiosity — and something else — edged in. Aurora Waldorf. She knew that name.
Of course she did. Everyone did.
With a flick of her fingers, she accepted.
The capsule paused only briefly before the doors slid open again with polite precision.
Aurora stepped in like a breath of soft music.
Hair straight and layered, cascading neatly with a soft, natural sheen under the capsule's silver light.
Her Solara-issue ensemble fit flawlessly, but somehow — unlike others who wore theirs like declarations — she wore it with understated grace.
No sharp edges. No effort.
She wasn't harshly beautiful.
She wasn't sharp or intimidating.
She was... the kind of beautiful that made people instinctively want to protect her.
Not because she was fragile — but because she felt rare.
Innocent, yet composed.
Famous, yet strangely unaffected.
Aria recognized her instantly.
Not just from the capsule's polite ONYX prompt — Aurora Waldorf, Solara — but because everyone knew her.
The Waldorf heiress. The K-pop ingénue. The teenage phenomenon.
She had just announced her hiatus a month ago, stepping away from the stage and screen at the peak of her fame. The headlines had been relentless.
Aria felt her throat tighten unexpectedly.
Aurora Waldorf radiated the kind of effortless grace that Aria — in all her curated perfection — realized she had never owned.
Aria's beauty was engineered.
Perfected through lighting, makeup, careful edits, and curated posts.
Aurora?
She simply was.
She didn't need angles or filters.
She didn't even try.
Aria felt suddenly loud. Obvious. Like everything she did screamed effort in comparison.
Some girls chased perfection.
Some were born as everyone else's definition of it.
For the first time, Aria felt like the chaser.
And Aurora didn't even know there was a race.
Aurora smiled gently as she stepped in, her presence warm but quiet.
"Hey. Solara too?" she asked, her voice smooth and melodic — the kind that made people lean closer without realizing.
Aria nodded, suddenly aware of how loud and obvious she probably felt in comparison.
"Yeah. Aria," she added quickly, offering her name. "Aria Lancaster."
The girl's smile deepened, polite but easy.
"Aurora Waldorf," she replied, as though Aria wouldn't already know.
Of course Aria knew. Everyone knew.
But Aurora said it without arrogance — just simple, matter-of-fact grace.
"Nice. It's... a lot, isn't it?" Aurora added, glancing out at the ever-shifting skyline beyond the capsule glass.
"Yeah," Aria agreed softly. "Definitely a lot."
For a moment, as the capsule resumed its glide through Avalon's layered skyline, there was silence — not awkward, but easy.
Aurora Waldorf was dangerous in the most disarming way.
Here, effortless grace was the sharpest currency of all.
Not icy like Luc.
Not imposing like Cassian.
But effortless.
And effortlessness was the most dangerous thing of all in a world obsessed with performance.
The Maglev capsule glided to a gentle stop at her private vestibule, docking without sound.
A soft pulse shimmered along the doorframe — identity confirmed.
The Suite's entryway slid open seamlessly, revealing a hushed, ambient interior.
Aria stepped inside, the capsule already departing behind her like a silent ghost.
By the time the door whispered shut, Avalon — and everything overwhelming — felt impossibly distant.
She dropped everything — Starter Kit, ONYX, her handbag — onto the nearest surface.
Her body folded onto the vast circular bed without resistance.
Too much.
Too fast.
Too unreal.
Her eyes fluttered closed as exhaustion smothered thought.
She didn't think about Luc.
Or Solara.
Or Aurora.
Or even Cassian.
Her final whispered thought before sleep claimed her felt childish and hollow.
Twelve hours ago, she was the most important girl in the room.
Now, she wasn't even the most important girl in her corridor.
Sleep took her before she could finish the sentence.
Coming soon:
Chapter 3 — The Sovereign Playbook
"Avalon knew how to impress.
Luxury. Technology. Perfection.
For now, Aria was enchanted — even welcome.
But every paradise comes with silent rules... and players already in motion"
YOU ARE READING
Valmont Series - Inheritance Code
Teen FictionWhat if your perfect life was just a rehearsal? On their twelfth birthday, Aria and Aiden Lancaster wake expecting luxury, freedom, and the future they were promised. Instead, they're given an ultimatum: Leave everything behind - their friends, thei...
