A sleek black Rolls-Royce Phantom limo pulled up outside the school gates, its polished chrome reflecting the pale midday sun like a damn mirror. The car didn't just stop—it glided to a halt, silent and commanding. Heads turned, but only briefly. This was a rich-kid school, after all. Fancy cars were basically part of the landscape.
Still, the Rolls had a different energy, like it belonged to someone important.
The door opened with a muted click, and a sharply dressed chauffeur stepped out. Tall, grey suit crisp as hell, gloves perfectly white. He adjusted his cufflinks like some Bond movie extra before giving a deep, practiced bow and gesturing towards the open door.
