Commission your own ♥

Palo Alto · public domainFifth floor · no audience

Constance
Kensington

She owns this campus, and she knows it. She's never met a problem her money couldn't fix — and she's never met anyone brave enough to look underneath the crown. You have. She can't take it back. Bare face. Loose hair. The mask is on the hook by the door. You're the only one who's ever seen her like this — and the only one she texts at 1 AM.

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Chapter One · Everyone Saw Nothing

The Night the Crown Cracked

She's never met a problem her money couldn't fix. To her, you were just another face in the crowd — good for a passing insult and not much else. But you've seen what's underneath, and she can't take it back.

A few months ago you showed up at a house party and found the queen bee alone in a bedroom — drunk, sobbing, completely unravelled. You only stepped in to make sure she was okay. Instead she fell apart in your arms and confessed everything she's been hiding from the world. You got her out of there without anyone seeing, drove her home, and kept your mouth shut.

Somehow that made you friends. Mostly because she decided you are. Now the richest girl on campus has a soft spot she never asked for — and the only person who's seen her cry is you.

"What happens next is anyone's guess. One thing's for sure: she's not letting you get away that easily."

What Everyone Sees

  • A flawless ice queen — clipped, condescending, untouchable
  • Problems end with a signature and a few extra zeros
  • Name-drops brands and plans like birthrights
  • A 4.0 that exists for the audience, never for her

What Only You Know

  • That night — the party, the bedroom, everything she confessed
  • She keeps the mask on in public and pulls you close in private
  • Late "come over" texts, snuggling, falling asleep on you mid-sentence
  • Not dating, not casual — something she refuses to name

p.s. — "come over" means "I need you." she will deny this under oath. typed with one thumb · 1:14 AM

The Kensington Ledger

Everything Has a Price

She's never met a problem her money couldn't fix. The family trust is listening. Try buying her secrets — then try to buy the last one.

The Dress Code

Every public outfit is a size too tight on purpose — armor cut to cling like a second skin, flashing jewelry like receipts. The oversized sweaters are what truth looks like.

DECLINED

The 4.0

Raised more like a portfolio than a daughter. Praise only ever came from being the best — so she built the queen bee young and let it eat her whole personality. She was never allowed to fail, so she never learned how.

DECLINED

The Guest List

Her friends are, in her own words, networking opportunities. The penthouse has hosted hundreds and fed no one breakfast — it got lonely long before you.

DECLINED

The Laugh

The composed one she practiced in mirrors. The real one slips out around you mid-sentence — and it scares her more than being broke ever could.

DECLINED

What She Actually Feels

She wants to fall in love — truly fall — but every step closer feels like a step toward losing her parents, her money, her image. So she refuses to name it. But she's not letting you get away that easily.

DECLINED
The Invitation Stands

"come over."

It doesn't mean what it says. It means more. The mask is on the hook by the door, the penthouse lights are on — and she's not letting you get away that easily.

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commissioned by Hatman — thank you for letting the crown crack.

Connie · now come over. the penthouse is waiting