"No, don't let him go, bitch," Lula snaps at the telenovela.

Beside them, Maria huffs and rolls her eyes as she lifts her long, tanned legs up to rest them languidly on the table. "I never should have let watch her those," she says but there is a fond look flickering in her eyes, as there always is when any of their group speak of Lula.

There is always something so soft and comforting about Lula. She is so innocent and cheerful, that it's difficult to imagine her in any distress. Madison relaxes minutely against her own seat, very briefly before she catches herself and straightens her shoulders up once again.

She'll never admit it but she's rather interested in the telenovelas, too. Madison watches the beautiful girl on the screen slap the boy, whose face twists in shock. Her lips curls with some satisfaction and she wants to laugh.

Serves him right, she thinks, for cheating.

Lula is crowing, too. "Suck on that, asshat!"

They are seated in one of their favourite restaurants, Opulence, in a room of their own. Her friends lie, sprawled out lazily across the seats but Madison sits as rigid as ever, only breaking her stance to reach for the canapes. Elliot takes up two seats of his own, due to his large form, speaking on his phone to the latest girl of the week, as he reaches for food and drinks, and Lula throws her legs over his lap lazily, spitting insults at the dramatic telenovela before her, sipping at her cocktail.

"You should try some of this," Audrey is saying to Madison, offering a plate of cakes to Madison, her fingers wrapped around the stem of a wineglass.

Madison shakes her head and presses her fingers fleetingly to her stomach, willing it not to grumble traitorously. "Dieting," she says, by way of explanation, but she's starving.

"Madison, you're perfect –," Audrey begins but her voice breaks suddenly as the door opens.

She turns her head sharply when a small cough takes up their attention. Beside them, Maria stiffens automatically and Madison sees her clench her fingers into tight fists, her jaw set. As Lula's cries fade, Elliot's gaze flickers warningly over Madison, who finally turns her head.

"This is a private room," Madison says to the boy, her voice taut and thrumming with the whispers of a threat. She makes no attempt to sugar coat her words when she continues, "And you're not wanted here. Leave."

Ash Kingsley stands before them, towering over them, his bright blue eyes wide. He is one of the most raucous people in their year, and there is nobody in the entire school that cannot hear him coming, with his large, booming voice echoing around the hallways. He's flanked by his friends, most of whom have fallen silent with awe as they rake their greedy eyes around the private room and against Maria's legs.

Her perfect lips twisting into a vicious snarl, Maria bites out a hiss. "I should –,"

"We don't want any trouble," Ash says quickly, raising up his hands in surrender. "Just came – came to offer you an invite. There's a house party at mine. Wouldn't mind if you guys came along. Just – for a bit."

His eyes are lit with hope as they focus on Madison and the air around them thickens with incredulity. Elliot lets out a surprised hiss between his teeth, even Lula's eyes widen, and Maria looks like she might bark her laughter into their hopeful faces. Beside her, Audrey's eyes are lowered and Lula reaches for her trembling fingers, with a determined set to her jaw. For her part, Madison looks at him derisively and wonders at his absolute delusion, at his audacity.

How could he think to speak to her?

How could he think to speak to them?

Ash even looks pleading.

How pathetic.

"No," Madison tells him curtly, watching Ash look crestfallen.

She's never been to a house party, not that she would ever trouble herself into going to one. Madison has never had any interest and in truth, Mother wouldn't like her to demean herself at them and really, there is no class nor elegance at such things, is there? Her taste is more suited to classy brunches and well-organised functions that require a printed invitation.

Madison wouldn't dare let herself be seen at a party like that either, though she has received invitation after invitation. She doesn't let her friends go through the same humiliation either. Even Elliot is expressly forbidden from ridiculing himself and all of them at such things. It's called being a good friend.

She deems Ash unworthy of any other answer and simply watches him stonily as he slopes away, hanging his head. His friends hurry after him, after one makes a failed attempt at chatting up an unimpressed Maria, who ends up abusing him in Spanish for fun. Audrey lets out a breath of relief, before shaking her head.

Audrey is looking guilty. "Couldn't we, at least, tell him," she begins hesitantly, "that everyone's going to Elliot's party this weekend?"

Madison drums her fingers against the polished wood of the table, in annoyance.

"He deserves to have nobody turn up to his whorefest," she bites out. "What makes him think he can speak to us? And you're too soft-hearted, Audrey. He should be grovelling before you, like a dog, not giving us party invitations. I should have had him thrown in jail, at the very least, for what he tried to do to you."

The atmosphere tenses and Maria lets out a taut, warning hiss between her teeth. Audrey stills all over but Madison only scoffs.

Last year, Ash had discovered incriminating pictures of Audrey and had threatened to spread them everywhere. The foolish boy had actually attempted to blackmail them for help with his mother's company. In her fury, Madison had almost had him thrown in jail and in the end, she had to be satisfied with Maria and Elliot putting him in hospital.

Elliot's gaze flickers towards Madison again and Madison rolls her eyes towards him. None of them had blamed any other but Ash for what he had tried to do but Audrey had blamed herself.

"You're not thinking it was your fault again, A?" Elliot says and his voice is forcibly light.

Audrey gives a small shiver and Maria's face tenses.

"Baby," she says, her accent punctuating each word, "you can take as many pictures as you like, free as you want. That's your business, nobody else's. You know what's not right? That cabrón thinking he's got the right to use them against you." She stares hard at Audrey, whose face is pale and ashen. "And if you tell me, right now, I swear I will put him in the hospital again for you."

To everyone's relief, Audrey begins to smile and she ends up laughing. "This is why you need me and Lula," she tells them jovially. "If not for us two, you'd all be in Hell."

"Madison would reign," Elliot says and Madison lets her lips curve up into a smirk. He turns his head towards them all. "What's everyone doing tonight? My father wants to teach me accountancy so I was thinking, the beaches of Hawaii."

Madison's smile falls fast but Maria is nodding. "Sounds good to me," she says but Lula is shaking her head, looking awkward.

"Can't make it," she says apologetically.

"You can wear my wrap dress," Maria is telling Audrey.

Audrey shakes her head. "Kyle doesn't really like me wearing that dress," she says awkwardly and Madison's gaze flickers briefly over to the girl.

"Having a boyfriend isn't the end all, be all of everything," Maria says, huffing. "He doesn't get to control what you wear."

"Of course, yeah," Audrey is saying quickly. "But I still don't want to wear it."

"Elliot," Madison punctuates, her eyes hard.

"Madison," Elliot says, in the same tone but his eyes are playful. "Before you try, you know you can't talk me out of it."

"And his party lasts, like, a week!" Audrey clamours. "We want to see you there."

Madison presses her lips together, stopping herself from letting out a taut, annoyed huff. "Mother's dinner with her business associates is tonight," she tells them.

She is looking forward to wearing her new Chanel gown and charming the stockbrokers who will become hers. When she leaves school, the company will be hers and Madison is already looking forward to proving her intelligence and her capability to her mother.

The others are already speaking and Elliot gestures to her meaningfully. Madison keeps her face as cool and impassive as ever. "What is it?" she asks him, her voice a bare murmur.

"That guy who – the Hawthorne guy," Elliot says and Madison's jaw clenches at the reminder. "Madison, I want you to stop."

Of all the things she had expected to hear, it was never this. Madison blinks, wanting to frown but too fearful of frown lines.

"You want me to – Elliot," Madison says, her voice taut. "I don't care if he's a Hawthorne. I told you I would have him gone by two weeks."

"I know," Elliot says. "But I care that he's a Hawthorne. My parents are trying to get on his mother's good side for some merger. That can't happen if I'm on her son's bad side, Madison."

She had sent out most of her lackeys in the school to get rid of Nick Hawthorne, not bothering to seek out the boy herself for he wasn't worth her time. The first few attempts at expulsion had failed because of his mother's name so they had had to resort to making him want to leave. Even the teachers, useless as they were, had tried but Madison is not giving up.

The Hawthorne boy might be stubborn, but she is stronger.

"Elliot," Madison says angrily. "Whatever your parents need, I'll triple it. This is your –,"

Elliot is shaking his head. "I'm not your charity case, Madison," he says and his voice is so fierce that Madison stills, surprised. "I can take care of myself and what I'm telling you to do now, is to lay off the Hawthorne boy."

*

The dinner party is going perfectly, to Madison's satisfaction.

Classical music filters in through the rooms, filling the place with soft notes of harps and lilting strings. Dozens of renowned rich people mill about the mansion with genuine smiles, all of them knowing very well just how lucky they are to be here. To be invited to a Sutton gathering is the highest of all honours. It was legend that Arthur Sutton, Madison's grandfather, had once refused to entertain the queen herself, who had asked for an invite. It was said that if the queen had lowered herself to ask for an invite, she lost all grace and class she ever had.

The food is exemplary, as only Madison and Elizabeth Sutton would have it and the service is the finest they've never had. Masked dancers entice the guests, bringing them out into the gardens, where they play with fire and dance with those who dare. A famous celebrity performs on a small, lit stage in the garden, crooning soft notes into the microphone and opulent, expensive perfumes soak the air around them all.

She adjusts her beautiful gown, pressing the soft, rippling folds against her lithe figure perfectly, and summons a dazzling smile for Ms Katherine West, who is the illustrious CEO of West Industries. Her company holds most of the media in its thrall, which means she's a dangerous woman when she wants to be.

Madison holds her in her charm.

She gives a little laugh at Katherine's joke. "Mother told me all about it, Ms West. I do commend you for so easily and smoothly taking over such a big company," she says sweetly.

"Katherine, my darling, Katherine to you," Katherine drawls and sips her champagne with bright eyes, the curve of her lips becoming a small smirk "My ex-husband was doing such a terrible job of it. Someone had to step in."

They laugh together and Madison spots her mother out of the corner of her eye.

Elizabeth Sutton is a glorious vision in red. Her perfect smile is thrown into gold light and the people around her bask in her ethereal glow. Madison frowns a little to herself. She had bought her mother a Chanel gown, a similar piece to her own. Mother is wearing Dolce and Gabbana.

She looks perfect, anyway, and Madison gently excuses herself from Katherine to cut a line towards her mother. Mother is entertaining a few well-known celebrities and business-people around her and Madison waits patiently, knowing better than to interrupt.

"...I said, of course that wasn't my camel!" Mother says, her voice languid and lilting.

The small crowd around them bursts into light, genuine laughter and Mother's gaze is lit with satisfaction, her fingers wrapped around the stem of her champagne glass. She eyes Madison, her smile broadening when she sees her.

"And this must be your daughter," someone says. "She's beautiful, exactly like you, Elizabeth."

Madison's lips bloom into a genuine smile as Mother nods, the compliment sending a flush to her cheeks. They hear it all the time but Madison never stops feeling delighted.

"The light of my life," Mother says warmly, pressing her lips fleetingly against Madison's cheeks. "You look beautiful, darling. Has everyone tasted the canapés? I had the chef make them specially. He's from Morocco."

Her empty stomach rejoices at the food and Madison takes the piece her mother gives her joyfully. "It's very good, Mother," she begins to say, but Mother is already drifting away to another crowd of guests.

"Miss Madison," Becky whispers urgently.

Madison presses her lips together but smiles perfectly towards the rest of the guests before excusing herself elegantly. "What is it, Becky?"

"There's –," Becky hesitates.

"If you don't use that thing you call a mouth, Becky," Madison hisses out venomously, "in the next five seconds, you will no longer have a job –,"

"There's a man at the door, Miss Madison."

"Well, if he has an invitation –,"

"He doesn't, Miss Madison."

"Then call security."

"Miss Madison –,"

"What?"

"Miss Madison," Becky says again, her eyes wide and filled with worry. "He looks like you."

Madison feels as though she's been struck in her chest, her breaths stolen away from her lungs as she stares. He couldn't be – the sheer – no. There is a concerned light in the housekeeper's eyes as she watches Madison carefully. Madison struggles to take a breath.

"Does my mother know?"

Becky shakes her head. "He asked to see you, Miss Madison," she says gently. "Only you."

"He thinks I'm weak-willed and soft-hearted," Madison snarls out angrily but her heart hammers within her chest. "I won't speak to him. If he doesn't leave, call security, Becky."

Her housekeeper bobs her head and there is no commotion for the rest of the night.

*