Seraphina

Montclair Academy was a fortress disguised as a school. Its ivy-wrapped stone towers and arched windows gleamed with centuries of tradition, the kind of place where names carved into marble mattered more than marks inked on paper. Within its halls, the children of dynasties moved like royalty, their laughter echoing off chandeliers, their scandals buried in silk. Here, power was not taught but inherited, sharpened through whispered gossip and sharpened smiles. Every gala, every fencing match, ev...