"In Avalon, you're free to be anything—until the system starts watching. Then it decides what's worth remembering."
"This is worse than paparazzi," Aurora murmured, her ONYX still glowing faintly.
"I came to Avalon for peace. Privacy. This?"
She gestured toward the ambient hush — the perfect surfaces, the polite lighting, the atmospheric elegance that somehow felt more invasive than any lens.
Her voice didn't rise, but her expression had shifted — a flicker of something that wasn't just disappointment.
It was disbelief. Displeasure. A kind of elegant horror.
"I didn't think I'd have to defend my silence."
She let the words settle. Then, quieter:
"This is surveillance with better lighting."
A pause. Her voice lowered.
"At least paparazzi sleep."
"This doesn't. It doesn't blink. It doesn't misinterpret tone or forget your schedule. It tracks you perfectly — because it isn't human."
She stared at her ONYX like it was breathing.
"It's not even watching. It's recording. Always."
Allegra didn't interrupt — not at first.
But then, gently:
"It's not just ONYX."
She stirred her drink once.
"It's Avalon. The entire system. The architecture. The air."
Her voice stayed calm.
"ONYX just translates what's already being observed."
Aurora looked away, her fingers tracing the rim of her glass.
"I spent most of my life being watched. Not only for what I did — just... for existing."
"Birthday parties with camera crews. Stylists before breakfast. Smile here. Stand straighter. Smile again."
A faint breath.
"Curated dates for brand synergy. Public friendships that came with pre-approved captions."
Her tone wasn't bitter. Just hollowed out by memory.
"And when the Valmont Institute invitation came — screened, selected, granted access like it meant something — I thought..."
She stopped. Just for a second.
"...maybe this is where I get to live quietly. Just be a student. No angles. No headlines."
She looked up — not at either of them. Just out into the weightless air.
"But this?"
"This is a perfected paparazzi. And worse, it never leaves."
"I thought the point was to be excellent on your own terms," she said, quieter now.
"Not... tracked for proximity."
Her hand clenched once, then eased.
"This was supposed to be the place where I could stop performing."
She exhaled—barely.
"But Avalon just replaced the audience with algorithms."
She looked at Aria, then down at her ONYX — still pulsing, still watching.
It hadn't recorded anything new.
And yet it felt like it knew everything.
"Apparently, just standing near someone interesting is enough to reframe your entire narrative."
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...
