Defy The Alpha(s) - Chapter 285

Chapter 285: The Mean Queen
If Violet ever doubted Elsie Lancaster’s creativity, today officially cleared that up.

The girl had successfully cornered them in the classroom like a hunter stalking her quarry, her eyes glinting with triumph.

In the mean queenbee’s words, every student was expected to play a role in Parents Week. Not even rogues were spared from that responsibility. They had to make themselves useful one way or another. And she had just found the perfect use for them.

“Why are we even doing this?” Ivy grumbled.

Alongside the other girls they met along the way, they were herded towards one of the halls for the meeting, just as Elsie had said.

“You know this is bullshit. If we don’t want to do a thing, she can’t force us to. We’re not pushovers,” Ivy protested.

“Rebellion is what Elsie expects from us. That would give her a reason to strike at us. We won’t give her that pleasure.

Moreover…” Violet leaned in to whisper into her ear, cautious of the girls around them. “If we’re to learn our enemy’s secrets, what better way to do it than to get close enough?”

Ivy looked up at Violet, impressed. “You are good at this.”

Violet shrugged it off. She owed all her lessons to life itself. It might have been hard, but it made her who she was. Not to mention, this was a fight against Elsie, she had to be smart enough to see through her nasty strategies.

Violet had already texted Lila and Daisy, and they would join them soon. All hands had to be on deck. Not to mention, they were stronger together.

Violet knew the moment she walked into that meeting place that it was not her thing at all. She was met with the sight of elite students who were all lined up like swans, ignoring the school uniform and instead wearing pale lavender blouses with lemon-cream skirts that screamed polished pedigree. Every strand of hair was curled in the same style, and every smiling, glossy lip was painted the same shade.

It was obvious what this was. As elites, they were putting on a performance for them—reminding them of the leagues between them. But even at that, the students looked genuinely excited to be there.

Of course, Violet was not one bit thrilled.

She knew the moment she walked into this hall that this was humiliation gift-wrapped in chiffon and coated in fake kindness from Elsie. A special little punishment, tailored just for her.

“What is going on here?”

Violet turned to the side to see that Daisy and Lila had finally arrived, successfully locating them.

“Geez, is this a sorority audition or what?” Lila commented dryly.

“Well, you’re right on time,” Violet said, her gaze following Elsie who walked up to the line of perfect-looking elites, who now took their place as her backup as she stood in front to address the students.

“Welcome, ladies and gentlemen,” Elsie said in a sweet voice as she faced them. “Some of you are here of your own accord, while some of you were specially chosen to assist us with the Legacy Luncheon preparations. It’s a very special event for our alumni families. In that case, only the best students should represent Lunaris, and you’re so lucky to be included.”

Lucky? Violet scoffed beneath her breath. The entitlement mentality of these elites. She would rather stab her own eyes than be here. But of course, the overly eager wannabe “elite” students cheered Elsie vigorously.

She didn’t miss the way Elsie’s gaze lingered on her. Smug. Superior. Triumphant. As if this little “assignment” was her crown jewel in the revenge department.

“Your roles…” Violet did not miss the way Elsie’s gaze rested on her as she continued, “will be simple. You’ll serve as our hands. Some of you will fetch drinks, pass around floral options, arrange name tags, and ensure everything runs like a dream. In one word, you’ll be shadowing us, the actual coordinators, of course.”

She smiled wider. “And tissues. Yes, some would discreetly hand out tissues should any guests spill something. Or sweat. Or cry. Trust me, it’s a very important job.”

Violet blinked. Cry? From what? The boredom?

“Wait a minute,” Lila interrupted, hands raised in question and drawing everyone’s attention. “So let me get this correctly, you’re making us into waitresses?”

“Oh no, sweetie,” Elsie said, all faux innocence. “That would be degrading. You’re hostesses-in-training. It’s an honor, really.”

Without missing a beat, Elsie snapped her fingers, and another group of equally dressed elite girls approached with folders, each one detailing seating plans. Violet was handed one with gold cursive on the front: Legacy Luncheon: Power & Placement.

Curious, she skimmed through the pages, only to frown the next minute.

“This can’t be real,” Ivy whispered beside her, flipping through her own binder. “They’re ranking parents.”

“Oh, it’s very real,” Violet muttered grimly.

The seating chart was a masterpiece in pretentious social engineering. Names were listed according to family history, supernatural creature, House affiliation, and general “legacy” appeal. It wasn’t just about placing people—it was about matchmaking. Status meets bloodline. Alpha heir meets legacy daughter. It was a damn supernatural-human dating auction disguised as brunch.

“So you see,” Elsie said in a sugary tone that almost burned Violet’s ears, “the cardinal families will be in the front seats, of course, with lesser families arranged behind, so we don’t overshadow the truly important guests. You’ll each memorize the seat placements so no one’s confused. Understood?”

“Yes, Elsie!” the foolish students answered.

Were they blind or what? Every student at Lunaris had the chance to secure a werewolf mate for themselves, but the elites and legacy students were hoarding the opportunity for themselves.

Violet was pissed off, but then she couldn’t exactly blame them. Not when it worked the same way in reality. The rich took the best and left the crumbs for the poor.

By the time they got to the part about napkin colors and whose spiritual aura matched which floral centerpiece, Violet was ready to fling herself through the nearest glass window.

Somehow, she caught Elsie’s eye from across the room, and the girl gave her a small wave, showing off her glittery nails and vindictive glee.

Elsie was punishing her and it was not the physical kind, but the psychological warfare. The slow torture of being made to serve the very table she would never sit at.