STAR ACADEMY

CHAPTER SEVEN

About four weeks had passed since the Protocol installation. Carter stood in front of the full-length mirror in his room at the Grace Manor, barely recognizing the person staring back.

The transformation was complete. His hair was blonde, swept back in the way Owen wore it in all his photos. Blue contact lenses covered his natural brown eyes. The surgical changes to his face had healed perfectly. His nose was refined, his cheekbones more pronounced. He wore clothes that cost more than he used to make in a month. A navy blazer, white shirt, dark jeans that fit perfectly because they had been tailored specifically for him.

He looked exactly like Owen Grace.

But when he stared into those blue eyes, he still saw Carter Hayes underneath. Still saw the con artist from Brooklyn pretending to be something he was not.

The Protocol hummed quietly in his head, a constant presence now. He had learned to ignore it most of the time, to push it to the background of his awareness. But it was always there. Watching. Analyzing. Waiting to offer suggestions he had not asked for.

Reginald entered without knocking. He never knocked anymore. He looked at Carter and said, "It's time."

Carter turned from the mirror. "I'm ready."

"Are you?" Reginald studied him with those cold eyes. "Because once we arrive at Star Academy, there is no turning back. One mistake, one slip, and everything falls apart. Your sister loses her home. Your nephew loses his future. And you go to prison."

"I said I'm ready." Carter's voice was steady. The voice coaching had worked. He sounded like Owen now. Upper-class American with just a hint of British influence. Nothing like the Brooklyn accent he had grown up with.

Reginald nodded. "Remember your cover story. You have been abroad for six months. Studying in Europe. Working on yourself. Recovering from exhaustion and stress. You are returning to Star Academy to finish what you started. To reclaim your place."

"I know the story."

"Knowing it and living it are different things. The moment you step onto that campus, you are Owen Grace. Not Carter Hayes. Owen. Every thought, every word, every gesture must be his. Do you understand?"

Carter met his eyes. "I understand."

The Protocol suddenly displayed text across his vision without being prompted.

MISSION: INFILTRATE STAR ACADEMY

OBJECTIVE: MAINTAIN COVER AS OWEN GRACE

DURATION: 1 YEAR

FAILURE CONSEQUENCES: TOTAL

Carter blinked and the text faded. The Protocol was getting better at anticipating what information he needed. Or maybe it was just reminding him of the stakes. Either way, the message was clear.

"The helicopter is waiting," Reginald said. "Let's go."

They walked through the mansion in silence. Past the expensive art and the marble floors and the portraits of Grace family ancestors judging them from the walls. Outside, a helicopter sat on the lawn, rotors already spinning. The pilot nodded as they approached.

Carter climbed in. Strapped himself into the leather seat. Reginald sat across from him, composed as always. The helicopter lifted off smoothly, rising above the estate, above the trees, heading south toward the city.

Carter's stomach was churning. He wasn't sure if it was just his nerves or the Protocol or both. His head had been aching more frequently lately. Dr. Mora said it was normal, that his brain was still adjusting to the implant. But that did not make it hurt less.

The Protocol displayed his vital signs without him asking. It showed that his heart rate was elevated, his blood pressure was high and stress hormones were flooding his system. Helpful information that did absolutely nothing to calm him down.

"You will make mistakes," Reginald said over the helicopter noise. "That is inevitable. The key is to recover quickly. To have explanations ready. You have been through trauma. You have changed. People will expect you to be different. Use that."

Carter nodded. He had heard this speech a dozen times. But hearing it now, minutes away from the campus, made it feel more real. More terrifying.

The city appeared below them. Then the helicopter turned east, following the coastline. And there, spread out along the water like something from a dream, was Star Academy.

It was massive. A complex of glass towers and modern architecture that seemed to glow in the afternoon sun. Brand billboards were integrated into the buildings themselves. The billboards and structures paid homage to the numerous corporate sponsors who funded this place and expected returns on their investments.

But dominating everything, rising from the center of the campus like a monument, was the Beacon. It was a tower made entirely of LED screens, fifty stories tall, visible for miles. And scrolling across its surface in letters ten feet high were names and numbers. The Rep rankings. Every student's standing displayed for the entire campus to see.

Carter watched as the rankings scrolled past. Thousands of students. Thousands of numbers. All of them competing for the spots at the top.

Then he saw it: 'OWEN GRACE – RANK 87 – REP: 4,200'

His name. Except it was not his name. It was Owen's. But for the next year, it might as well be his. That number would go up or down based on what Carter did. How he performed. Whether he succeeded or failed.

The pressure was suddenly very real.

The helicopter descended toward a landing pad on the east side of campus. Carter could see students below, pointing up at them. Word was spreading. Someone important was arriving.

They touched down. The rotors began to slow. Reginald unstrapped himself and opened the door.

"Remember who you are," he said. "Owen Grace. Heir to a fortune. Surrounded by people who knew him. One mistake and you are finished."

"Got it." Carter's mouth was dry.

He stepped out of the helicopter. The moment his feet touched the ground, the Protocol activated fully and his vision was filled with information.

Students were everywhere. Some were walking between buildings, others were sitting on benches and a few gathered in groups. And the Protocol was tagging all of them. Scanning faces. Matching them to Owen's memories, to the files Carter had studied. Names and threat levels appeared next to faces faster than Carter could process.

MARK GOLD – ACQUAINTANCE – THREAT LEVEL: LOW

JENNIFER WRIGHT – UNKNOWN – THREAT LEVEL: MINIMAL

DAVID ASHFORD – FORMER FRIEND – HOSTILE – THREAT LEVEL: MODERATE

Too much information. Too many people. Carter's head was starting to hurt.

He forced himself to walk forward. To look confident. To be Owen Grace, who had every right to be here, who had attended this school before and was simply returning.

Students were watching him. Some curious, some hostile. Whispers spread through the crowd like wildfire.

"Owen Grace is back."

"I thought he dropped out."

"He looks different."

"What happened to him?"

A girl stepped directly into his path. She was pretty, almost like a doll come to life. Perfect makeup. Designer clothes. She looked like she’d been fed beauty lessons instead of bedtime stories while growing up. And right now, she looked at Carter with open contempt.

"Welcome back, loser," she said loud enough for everyone nearby to hear.

The Protocol immediately tagged her.

STEPHANIE VAUGHN – GOLD CLASS – COMPETITOR – KNOWN RIVALRY WITH OWEN

It also suggested a response. Several responses actually, scrolling across Carter's vision faster than he could read them. But the top suggestion was clear.

SUGGESTED RESPONSE: "Good to be back."

TONE: ALOOF, UNBOTHERED

Carter forced Owen's smile. The one he had practiced in the mirror. Slightly arrogant, completely unbothered. Then he said, "Good to be back."

But his voice cracked slightly on the last word, nerves betraying him at the worst possible moment. Stephanie's smile widened. She had heard it. So had everyone else nearby. A few people laughed.

Carter's face burned. He wanted to say something else, to recover, but the Protocol was lagging. Too much stimuli. Too many faces to scan. The system was overloaded and offering him nothing useful.

He pushed past Stephanie, heading toward what looked like residential buildings. He needed to get somewhere private. Somewhere he could breathe and regroup and figure out what he was doing.

But the campus was huge. There were buildings and students everywhere. And Carter had no idea where he was going. The Protocol was supposed to have maps loaded but it was still glitching from the overload.

"Owen!"

The voice came from behind him. Male. Warm. Friendly.

Carter turned and his stomach dropped.

A guy was walking toward him, tall and athletic with the kind of easy confidence that came from being at the top of every hierarchy. He had dark hair, a perfect smile, and eyes that were sharp despite the friendly expression. He wore the Star Academy blazer like it had been made for him. Which it probably had been.

The Protocol tagged him instantly.

SEBASTIAN HOLT

RANK: 1

CLASS: GOLD

REP: 87,340

RELATIONSHIP: BEST FRIEND SINCE AGE 12

SHARED HISTORY: EXTENSIVE

THREAT LEVEL: HIGH

WARNING: KNOWS OWEN INTIMATELY. DECEPTION DIFFICULTY: EXTREME.

Carter froze. This was the worst possible person to encounter first. Sebastian knew Owen better than almost anyone. If anyone would see through the deception immediately, it would be him.

But Sebastian was already pulling him into a hug before he could run for the nearest exit.

"Dude, where the hell have you been?" Sebastian yelled as he pulled back, hands still on Carter's shoulders, studying his face. "You ghosted me for six months, man. Six months of nothing. No calls, no texts, nothing. Thought you were gone for good."

Carter's mind raced. The Protocol was feeding him information about Sebastian. Their shared history, inside jokes and nicknames. But it was too much, too fast, and Carter could not process it all.

He forced a laugh. It came out more nervous than he intended. "Yeah, man. I just... I needed some time, you know."

Sebastian's smile remained but his eyes suddenly narrowed as he said, "Time for what? You just disappeared. After everything that happened, you just vanished. Do you know how worried I was?"

"I'm sorry," Carter said, although he did not know what ‘everything that happened’ referred to. The Protocol was not explaining the details. "I should have reached out. I just... I wasn't in a good place."

"Yeah, I can see that." Sebastian's tone softened slightly. "You look different though. Good different. Like you finally got some sleep. Oh hell, did you put on some weight? You look healthier."

"Something like that," Carter said with a shrug.

Sebastian was still studying him. Carter could see the gears turning behind that friendly smile. Sebastian was suspicious. The Protocol had been right about that.

"We need to catch up properly," Sebastian said. "Dinner tonight? Just us. Like old times."

Every instinct Carter had was screaming at him to say no. To avoid Sebastian until he had more time to prepare. But refusing would be even more suspicious. Owen's best friend invites him to dinner and Owen says no? That would raise more questions than Carter was ready to answer.

"Sure," Carter said. "Sounds good."

"Perfect." Sebastian clapped him on the shoulder. "Welcome home, brother. It's good to have you back."

He walked away, back toward a group of students who were waiting for him. All of them watching Carter with curious eyes.

Carter stood there for a moment, unable to move. His hands were shaking. His heart was pounding. He had been on campus for less than ten minutes and he had already nearly blown his cover twice.

The Protocol displayed a message.

SEBASTIAN HOLT: SUSPICIOUS. PROCEED WITH EXTREME CAUTION.

"Thanks," Carter muttered under his breath. "Really helpful."

He finally found his way to the residential building. A student at the front desk checked him in, gave him a key card, and directed him to his room. Third floor, corner unit. Single occupancy because Owen was rich enough to afford privacy.

The room was nice. Not as luxurious as the Grace Manor but far better than Carter's old apartment. There was a king-sized bed, a huge center desk, private bathroom and windows overlooking the campus and the ocean beyond.

Carter collapsed onto the bed and stared at the ceiling. His head was pounding. The Protocol was still running in the background, processing everything he had seen, cataloging faces and threats and information.

One conversation with Sebastian and Carter already felt like he was drowning.

How the hell was he going to survive a year of this?