Chaotic Affinity: A Rebirth Magic Academy Romance

Genoveva Stuart POV:

I started packing the next morning.

My closet held a few faded things, hanging thin on their rails. Next door, Bella's wardrobe spilled designer labels past the door. I packed my few things without a second thought. They were all I had in this house.

Tucked at the back was an old wooden box. I pulled it out and lifted the lid.

Inside lay the treasures I had cherished in my past life.

A faded badge—a gift from my so-called brothers, for winning my first school duel in their name. A yellow slip of paper, soft with age, holding a rare word of praise from Father—for finding the herb that had purified his magic.

I used to believe these were proof of their love.

Now I saw them for what they were. Bait. Lures to keep me useful.

The memory of their betrayal ran through me like ice water.

I carried the box to the unlit fireplace. As a Chaotic Affinity wielder, I could coax a flame from the smallest spark of elemental energy—though I had never once dared let it burn in this house.

I raised a finger. A tiny, five-colored flame flickered to life above it, dancing, patient.

I dropped the box into the hearth. The fire leaped, took the wood and every "memory" inside it, and burned them to ash.

A weight I hadn't known I was carrying lifted off my shoulders.

I zipped my suitcase and went downstairs.

The grand foyer was empty. No goodbyes. As if a servant were leaving, and not a daughter.

I was at the front door, my hand on the handle, when Bella's voice cut the silence behind me.

She leaned against the staircase, draped in the shimmering new cloak Father had just given her. A peacock, showing her feathers.

Her eyes traveled over me and my pitiful suitcase. "Oh—you're really going? And here I thought you'd be on your knees, crying for Daddy to let you stay."

I said nothing. I only looked at her, my face a blank slate.

The silence grated on her.

"That muddled, impure Chaotic Affinity of yours," she said. "In a place like the School of Myriad Races, packed with elites? You'll be a laughingstock. A target. For everyone."

Her smile sharpened. "I can't wait to hear how they break you. You won't last a month before they throw you out. And when they do—" she tilted her head, "—you won't have a home to come back to."

She was hunting for a reaction. The same collapse she had engineered out of me a hundred times before.

But I just looked at her.

My gaze was cold and empty. Not angry. Not sad. Not even hateful. It was the look you give a stranger.

That indifference landed harder than any retort. Her smile faltered.

I held her eyes a moment longer, then turned to the door.

I pulled the heavy oak open. Sunlight poured in, briefly blinding.

Without looking back, I dragged my suitcase over the threshold and stepped out of the prison that had held me for two lifetimes.

Behind me, I could feel her stare—triumph and unease tangled together.

I walked the long private drive. The magical plants lining the path were wilted and dull, a fitting portrait of this family's future. The wrought-iron gates swung open, and I stepped onto the pavement of a London street.

A red double-decker rumbled past. Its ordinary noise made the mansion behind me feel like a fever dream.

I took a breath. The air tasted of exhaust fumes and freedom.

The line was drawn. Me, and Bella Stuart. Me, and the Silver Cloud Society. Me, and everything I used to be.