Prologue
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Elias Harrington never imagined the morning after his eighteenth birthday would be this catastrophic.
He sat slouched on his dorm bed, head pounding, while his father paced the room like a wind-up toy about to snap. Every turn was accompanied by a sharp exhale, deep creases carving into his forehead as if each sigh etched a new wrinkle.
His mother was there too... sort of. Her face flickered from the tablet propped on his desk, hundreds of miles away, safe and distant on the other end of the country. Neither parent spoke at first. They didn’t need to.
Moments ago, the headmaster himself had called to deliver the news: their only son had been expelled from the most prestigious private school on the continent, possibly the world. The official reason? “Unacceptable conduct on school premises.” Unofficially? The disaster that was his eighteenth birthday party.
Elias’s father had been in Brussels for a business trip when the call came. Within hours, his private jet had landed in Switzerland. Under different circumstances, Elias might’ve cracked a joke about their carbon footprint (something about how the planet’s survival mattered more than a stern father-son talk) but right now, humor felt like stepping into a minefield.
His parents were hardly the strict type. They’d never grounded him, never yelled much, never really punished him at all. Which, admittedly, might have been part of the problem.
At twelve, he’d stolen his mother’s credit card and spent $5,000 on Pokémon cards, only to get scammed. At fifteen, he and his friends had broken into a centuries-old castle to go ghost hunting, racking up a hefty fine. Every time, his parents had smoothed things over. No lectures, no lasting consequences.
Until now.
“Dad, I just—”
“No, son. Just… don’t.” His father’s voice cut like glass. “Your mother and I don’t spend this kind of money to get you into this school for nothing. We didn’t spoil you with toys or trips or the latest gadgets. We gave you opportunities. And- and this is how you thank us?”
Elias swallowed his retort. His father’s monologue was far from over.
“It’s almost the end of the school year,” Elias tried. “I can still graduate if I take the exam commission, and then—”
“And then what? You think any university will take a kid expelled from here? This isn’t just about school. It’s about reputation.”
That word. Reputation. It made his skin crawl. All his life, people had told him not to care what others thought until “reputation” was on the line, and suddenly it was the only thing that mattered.
“I didn’t mean for it to get out of hand,” he muttered. “It was just supposed to be a party. Me and my friends—”
“Don’t even get me started on those friends of yours.” His father let out a short, humorless laugh. “How did they even get alcohol? And drugs? And prostitutes?”
“Strippers,” Elias corrected automatically.
“I don’t care what you call them. Ten students under the influence. Cocaine. And don’t tell me you didn’t take anything—we can do a test right now.”
The awful thing was… this mess hadn’t started with him. Not exactly.
Adrian and Ghost (short for Augustine, though everyone had forgotten that) had been plotting his birthday for weeks. They’d bribed the dorm’s usual night guard to look the other way and smuggled in a few beers, despite the school’s zero-alcohol policy. Innocent enough, at least at first.
But their dorm was filled with bored, wealthy teens who’d leap at any excuse to misbehave. A couple of beers turned into tequila shots, which turned into joints, which somehow turned into a hyperactive kid handing out free cocaine packets like party favors. And then, in a stroke of genius (or insanity) his friends had hired strippers to “liven things up.”
By the time Elias woke up, his head was splitting and his birthday lounge was crawling with security, the headmaster, the vice-principal, and two men who looked like they’d been pulled straight from a mob film.
It didn’t matter that the cocaine wasn’t his, that he hadn’t even touched it, or that half the chaos came from kids whose last names carried more weight than his. The party had been for him. Which meant, in the eyes of the school, it was his mess.
And now, not even his parents believed him.
“I honestly don’t know what to do with you anymore.”
His father’s voice was low, worn, almost defeated. That was worse than shouting. His dad being angry was one thing. Hopeless? That cut deep.
Before Elias could respond, a voice crackled from the tablet propped up on the desk.
“May I have a say in this, Christopher?”
Both men turned to look. His mother’s face filled the screen, perfectly composed, hair pulled into a sleek knot. She was across the country on a case, but her presence still seemed to fill the room. Where his father was all bluster and impulse—a finance hotshot who got rich quick and stayed there—his mother was measured and razor-sharp. She didn’t raise her voice. She didn’t need to.
“Go ahead, love,” his dad muttered, sinking into the chair beside Elias. He pressed his fingertips to his lips, like bracing himself.
“Eli,” his mother began, her tone warm but unyielding. “Your behaviour is unacceptable. Whether you think it was your fault or not isn’t the point. You’re an adult now. Adults know how to follow rules.” She paused just long enough to let that sting. “And I think I’ve found the right way to drive the point home.”
She tapped her screen, and a Facebook job listing appeared.
Looking for student — summer server/barman, atmospheric café in East London.
Elias blinked. “You’re joking.”
“You remember my sister Suzanne?” his mother asked, the corners of her mouth lifting ever so slightly. “She runs that little café by the river. I think she’d appreciate some help this summer.”
His stomach sank. “What about our Japan trip? You promised—”
The look on his father’s face stopped him cold. It wasn’t anger. It was decision.
“I think your mother’s right,” his dad said. “You can come back when you’ve learned a thing or two about hard work.” He rose, opened the wardrobe, and pulled out Elias’s suitcase.
When the call ended, the room felt heavier. He shoved clothes into the suitcase without folding them, the way you do when you’re trying not to think. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw his dad watching him, but for once, there was no lecture. Just a quiet nod, like the sentence had been passed and nothing else needed saying.
“Time to pack, son. Your term here is over anyway.”
Elias sat there for a moment, numb. Expelled from school. Banished to East London. Working in some tiny café run by an aunt who probably didn’t even own a dishwasher.
Fantastic.
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Hello! This is my first story! Please be nice :)
