Erika Felix was happy for once. So happy that she didn't even shoot her signature scowl towards a girl wearing strappy Steve Madden flats who bumped directly into her, nearly causing her to drop her iPhone on the gravel terra of the LAX FBO parking grounds - reserved just for Elite ready to flee the cities for the Spring. She simply took the girl's mumbled apology and went on merrily with her conversation with Veronica Conrad.

The FBO parking grounds was like a driveway for every private jet around, the jets all lined up in rows, crew and hot people carrying Louis Vuitton suitcases either hurrying in or out of the planes.

Erika had been expecting a busy morning. Spring Break had finally begun and no one wanted to be caught dead in their own city.

"So you didn't go to the party?" She asked Veronica on the other end of her phone, examining herself in one of the mirrored windows of a Hawker jet that looked rather tacky thanks to its firetruck red coating, the name, 'O'Brian,' printed across the top. For once, she hadn't gone for the polished future CEO daughter ensemble. She wore a white wide-strapped flowy Ulla Johnson tank top and Balmain jeans, no fancy articulated buns or any embellishments except for a silver Sara Weinstock necklace that was actually over a thousand dollars but was pretty plain to Erika.

This was the most casual Erika had ever looked and she found it fitting considering she and her father were finally building a relationship. Not the relationship they had been working on before; the relationship where Erika felt like one of the assistants her father was always bossing around at his real estate firm. A real relationship. One where she was finally the daughter. His daughter.

She knew getting Damon sent away was such a good idea. Look how quickly the tables had turned!

Erika stopped her strut between the rows of jets to rummage through her baby pink Givenchy mini duffel for a pair of Illestava sunglasses, slipping them over her hazel eyes that had been squinting underneath the burning sun above as Veronica answered her question.

"I would have gone but my parents finally came back from Dubai," She sighed, annoyance heard even from the phone. "They actually want to stay home and do something with the family for once - which is going to Burlesque Clubs and casinos so they can go find couples to have swinger parties with. I think they're simultaneously going through a mid-life crisis."

"Really?" Erika pressed on. If she weren't feeling ecstatic, she would have told Veronica to talk about something that actually mattered.

Veronica was adopted and pretty much didn't have parents as far as Erika was concerned as she hardly ever mentioned them - and the Conrads were far too involved in their traveling addictions to indulge in the inner circles of Beverly Hills. As far as Erika knew, Veronica was born to some random peasant in Britain, taken in by a gracious rich couple who couldn't have a daughter to save their lives, and became semi-annoying.

"Yup, so much for partying in Miami. I just had to cancel a thousand hotel rooms.....and the best date line-up I've ever had, ugh."

"Spring Break in Miami is for community college students anyway," Erika said dismissively, finally catching sight of one of her father's beloved Boeing 757 jets with a glistening silver coat and tinted windows. It was Mr. Felix's favorite jet out of his entire collection."Anyway, wanna know what I'm doing this Spring?"

"Getting revenge?"

"Screw revenge, I'll be golfing in the Hamptons this week."

Erika could practically feel the envy oozing off of Veronica's silky, muffled voice. "Oh....whose the lucky guy accompanying you....or should I say, girl?"

"Actually, I'll be spending Spring Break with my father. I happen to care about family."

"Then why do you hate Da-"

"Like I said," Erika cut her off, her mood almost faltering at the mention of her stupid brother. "I value family." And as far as she was concerned, Damon wasn't family.

She finally made it to the Felix jet, valets loading her Louis Vuitton and Valextra suitcases aboard. Matthew Felix was probably sitting comfortably in one of the upscale cushions with a Lacrosse magazine, waiting impatiently for his daughter.

The thought made Erika so nervous she was practically bouncing on the heels of her navy, pointy-toed Jimmy Choos.

"Well, I have to go," She said to Veronica. "I might call you if I feel like being annoyed."

" I guess you love being annoyed then because you call me everyday." Veronica snapped haughtily.

Erika's mood was almost kicked down a notch because she really did call Veronica everyday. Veronica was the only acquaintance she had, the only person that seemed to be sticking around and it was kind of....nice.

A warm and fuzzy nice - with a pint of wickedness, of course.

Veronica wasn't all that bad. She and Erika had things in common; they liked to fuck with people, shop on Rodeo Drive, fuck with people, maintain their superiority, and fuck with people. During the week that Erika had completely shut down and turned into a Gucci-clad zombie, Veronica had been the only person who bothered to leave her voicemails - bitchy voicemails but kind of nice nonetheless.

Erika looked around as if someone could be watching before drawing a breath. "I'm only saying this once. Thank you for helping me sink the yacht. You didn't have to but you did and that makes you slightly less basic."

The words felt like straight vodka on her tongue. Erika Felix does not thank people - but she'd make an exception for Veronica's unwavering loyalty.

Even if she did rat her out to the police.

"Aw, I feel so lucky. I'm pretty sure I'm the only person whose ever earned Erika Felix's gratitude."

"You better feel lucky, you've just been blessed." Erika tsked.

"Well have fun in the Hamptons," Veronica said, voice sounding much softer. "I'll be too busy watching my parents trying to schmooze the Carters into a one night stand. It's really hard to hit on guys when your parents are across the bar picking up parents."

Erika almost pitied her. "Well perhaps at ten o' clock, you could be blessed with a phone call from your Queen - but it's not a guarantee."

"I'll be looking forward to it anyway." Veronica replied swiftly and for some reason, Erika felt a tad bit odd as she ended the call. If she didn't know any better, Veronica had been using her "kitten" voice - the one she used with guys that had them all fawning over her. Erika used to think she sounded like a whiny bitch.

But just now...

She quickly brushed off the thought, heading up the ramp of stairs leading into the jet and sliding her sunglasses atop her head of stick-straight Auburn-Brown hair.

Upon entering the large plane, it was pretty obvious why Mr. Felix cherished it so much. The Boeing 757 might as well have been a hotel room; dove white cushion recliners, glossy wooden walls and barrel-shaped doors, yellow daisies and pink roses in china vases decorating the side tables, and two recliners facing a wide screen TV to the left side of the large but narrow strip of a jet, Netflix, Hulu, and every service imaginable at command.

And the WiFi was pretty nice too.

Erika set her purse gingerly in one of the cushioned seats, using the TV remote to navigate the screen to an episode of Scream Queens.

She was just about to ask the staff outside where the hell her father was but she heard shuffling from the next room over. It had to be Matthew and although she was trying to take comfort in the casual father-daughter relationship they were working on, she still couldn't help but straighten her already perfect posture, whip the sunglasses off her head, and curse herself for wearing a tank top and jeans - 'so unpresentable!'

With a last self evaluation, Erika pushed open the doors to the mini kitchen, expecting to see the successful businessman seated at the walnut top, metal-legged table with a cup of coffee and real estate paperwork spread out in front of him.

However, instead of paperwork there was a large woven gift basket on the table, filled to the brim with wrapped Amedei Porcelana chocolate, exotic muffins, and other sweets along with a small note made out of elegant parchment - that a familiar heavyset woman in maid attire was slipping into the basket.

"Griselda!" Erika gasped fakely and Griselda looked up, tendrils of brown hair hanging in her face, her serene expression quickly turned into dread. "What a surprise this is! I thought you quit your job!"

Griselda opened her mouth to speak but Erika quickly cut her off. "Let me guess, being a cashier at Target doesn't pay the bills so you decided to come back to my generous family?" She knew Griselda's rebound job had been Target because she now had no life social life and spent her time doing background checks on every bitch she hated.

The maid only moved off to the side. "The basket is for you."

Erika picked up the note slipped between a pack of chocolates, heart practically soaring. The letter was handwritten - handwritten! - by her father. Matthew never made personal notes, typically having his assistants for that job - even when it came to congratulating long time friends for births and weddings.

Yet there it was. His perfect writing printed on the gold parchment specifically for Erika :

A meeting came up concerning Felix Co. so unfortunately I won't be joining you on the flight. I won't be in New York until the next morning so you'll have the house to yourself for the night. I'm afraid I didn't know what you liked so I hope you find the Amedei chocolate exquisite. I've loaded 143, 000 dollars on your American Express card so you can entertain yourself - refrain from anything foolish.

Love Your Father,

Matthew Felix

Love!

He added love!

Erika was so ecstatic she could bounce across the walls like a drunk Paisely and while she wasn't big on eating, she felt so buoyant that she unwrapped one of the Italian chocolates, letting the delicious taste dissolve on her tongue.

She didn't even feel like throwing up. She wanted to savor the taste because it was the first genuine thing she'd gotten from her father.

She turned to Griselda. "I apologize for treating you like the shit on the bottom of my Louis Vuittons, " She said sweetly. "It isn't my place to ridicule you for your occupation. You can't help that you're a peasant."

Griselda gasped and Erika took that as an acceptance of her apology. Then an idea took root in Erika's mind and she retrieved her leather Chloe wallet from the cushioned recliner she'd tossed her purse on earlier, handing Griselda eight-hundred dollars in cash - because she just felt so damn wonderfully content."I don't need you to travel with me, you can just go shopping. I'm pretty sure you can get about two t-shirts with eight hundred dollars at Barneys."

Griselda stared at the wad of cash before slowly and begrudgingly accepting them, eyeing Erika as if she'd just seen a ghost. "Uh...thank you, Miss Felix."

Erika barely heard her, settling in one of the recliners and rewinding back to the beginning of an episode on the flat screen. However, she did hear Griselda when she awkwardly said her name in her thick accent as if she had something to say - but then seemed to shake her head as if she were changing her mind and hurried off of the jet.

The Felix's hired pilot soon announced take off and Erika, having quickly gotten tired of watching Nick Jonas portray an LGBT character awfully, turned off the TV altogether and whipped out her phone, sending Veronica Conrad a quick text because she had a stable family union and poor Ver didn't.

'Maybe when I get back we could have our own Spring Break? Just us minus Paisely and the Fake Bitches.'

Veronica replied in minutes and Erika read her text smugly, knowing the orange-haired girl had to have been waiting for her message.

'Just us...only if we go to Saint Tropez. Hot french guys galore,' and then she quickly added, 'And girls too.'

Erika texted, 'Done,' before relaxing in the chaise white recliner. She spent the majority of the flight, eating more than she ever had before without feeling the urge to puke once and ended up falling asleep with some problematic artist blasting on the Beats stereo.

It wasn't until midway through an Azealia Banks track that the private jet finally landed in East Hampton, the blue sky having gone from sunny and bright to dark and speckled with stars. Erika stepped off the jet with an uber-driven sleek, black Lexus already waiting, airport valets hauling her luggage into the trunk.

Yawning lavishly, Erika slipped into the backseat of the equally black and pristine interior, demanding for the heater to be turned on because New York, despite Spring being in full bloom, was still stuck in Winter.

It felt refreshing to be away from Beverly Hills where the air smelled like Botox, champagne, and Paisely Mont Vernon. The air in New York was drastically different. A humid air that smelled like magazine pages, cigarettes, and real animal fur - and maybe a tiny bit of pollution too.

New York felt raw and harmonic. This was the city where Erika's dreams were going to come true. She could already see it now; golfing sessions in which she'd impressively beat Matthew and he'd shower her with fatherly adoration, having father-daughter dates at restaurants like the Voila where Matthew would recall all his experiences in life and give Erika fatherly advice, and water skiing at Cooper's Beach so Erika could finally show Matthew that she was just as athletic as Damon - she could even give Lacrosse a go to really drive home how better she was.

Fuck Paisely and the empire she'd taken from her. Erika had everything she needed right here in the Hamptons; a loving father and even a new slave - bestie -to hang out with once she got back.

After hours of driving through lit up streets, passing Spring Breakers swinging shopping bags, and whisking past mini mansions and tudor-styled homes, Erika finally felt the Lexus come to a slow halt. She had had her hazel eyes glued to the bright screen of her iPhone, looking up expensive restaurants ideal for the father-daughter dates in store.

Erika felt so vibrant that she ended up breaking one of her haughty rules and tipping the uber with a Benjamin Franklin, stepping out of the Lexus with her heart practically mirrored in her subconscious, violet-lipped smile.

And then her smile slightly faltered. She turned back to the uber. "This isn't the beach house. You've gone to the wrong address."

Instead of the Felix's Italian-inspired beach getaway complete with several balconies overlooking waves crashing against a shore, they were parked in front of a wide, lavish green field and in the distance, if she squinted through the darkness, Erika could see gorgeous brick architectural buildings like a small English city centered around a village square and a large sign with words too dark to see.

Erika thought she could even see groups of people farther across the field.

The uber shrugged his shoulders and that's when Erika heard a distinctly rough voice. "Actually, you're not at the wrong place at all." Erika turned forward again to see a woman with bowl cut black hair, beady eyes, and dressed from head to toe in camouflage along with a matching hat that made her look like a soldier returning from war.

Erika was beyond perplexed. "Excuse me?"

"Aren't you Erika Felix?" The woman barked louder than necessary.

Erika found herself looking around, catching car lights slowing down in front of...whatever this place was.

"I ASKED YOU A QUESTION AND NOW IT'S TIME FOR YOU TO ANSWER," The woman shouted even louder, forcing Erika to face her again. "ARE YOU OR ARE YOU NOT ERIKA AUDRIANA FELIX?"

Erika was appalled, her good mood shattered. 'Who the hell does she think she is?' No one talks to Erika Felix that way - especially not someone with a ridiculous haircut.

"Yes, I am Erika Audriana Felix so if I were you I'd fix my tone and sue my hair stylist. From the looks of that hair cut, my father could buy you on a discount."

The woman only blinked blankly - and then her face crinkled into a nasty grin. "That was cute," She said dismissively. "But on the contrary, your father is the one who sent you here."

Erika's breath was whipped out of her. "What-what-where?"

"Here," The woman finished crudely. "At East Hampton Military Institute for Troubled Youth and now that you've confirmed your identity," Her smile faded from her harsh features. "GET DOWN ON THE GROUND RIGHT NOW AND GIVE ME FIFTY!"

Erika gasped in complete and utter shock.  "I'm sorry but you must have forgotten who I am. I'm Erika Felix-"

"No, you are now Cadet Felix and I'm ordering you to get down on the ground and give me fifty!" The bowl-haired woman shouted and Erika finally noticed her shiny badge shaped like an eagle, the name; 'Lakemond,' engraved in silver on her uniform.

Erika slowly backed towards the street but when she turned around, the Lexus was gone - along with all of her luggage. 'What now?' She had practically just been kidnapped by a peasant with an ugly haircut.

Erika heard the slam of a car door and she looked to her left to see a girl in a plaid miniskirt stepping out of a limo and reluctantly getting on the ground as someone else dressed similar to Lakemond pestered her with demands. Now that Erika truly looked around, she realized the entire street was crowded with parked vehicles, kids pouring out of each car and being swarmed by tacky people in camouflage suits.

'What the hell is this?' She thought in terror. 'The Hunger Games?'

"FIFTY NOW!"

"Fifty what?" Erika exclaimed, heart racing so fast she felt slightly dizzy, like she needed to throw up all the lovely chocolate her father had given her before she blew up.

"FIFTY PUSH UPS! DO YOU WANT DEMERITS ON THE FIRST DAY, CADET?"

Erika looked down at the wet, clean-cut grass, heart sinking to her full stomach. "I'm wearing Balmain jeans." And while jeans were casual, Balmain wasn't just something you tossed on wet grass for green stains.

Lakemond tsked. "I COULDN'T CARE LESS ABOUT YOUR BALLOT JEANS, FIFTY PUSH UPS NOW."

"Hello, are you mental? I can't do push ups in Jimmy Choos." Especially her new pair fresh off of the website.

"YOU'VE JUST EARNED YOURSELF FIVE DEMERITS."

"I can't-"

"Just do it." She heard someone half-whisper, looking to her right to see a girl with stylish dark ombre purple-and-black hair running through the field and towards the buildings, a man in an outfit similar to Lakemond's still barking at her as she ran.

That girl was running in incredibly high ankle-strap Dolce & Gabbana heels, each heel sinking in the grass as she moved.

"CADET FELIX, ITS EITHER FIFTY PUSH UPS OR THREE MILES!" Lakemond shouted, muscular arms on her defined hips.

Reluctantly - and painfully - Erika slowly sunk to the ground, wincing as the knee caps of her beloved jeans touched the wet grass. She could practically feel her clothes dying as she got into a plank position, her auburn hair falling in her face.

And then she did it. Fifty, agonizing push ups that Lakemond counted herself, sometimes stopping for long breaks in between numbers so that Erika had to struggle to keep a shaky plank. 

However, that wasn't the worst part.

As soon as Lakemond shouted, "FIFTY!" and Erika hurriedly got to her feet, horrified as she looked over the green grass stains marring her jeans, palms, and the pointy-toed ends of her Jimmy Choos, Lakemond suddenly cried, "NOW RUN ACROSS THE FIELD!"

"Are you serious?"

"NOW!"

"But-"

"NOW, CADET, NOW!"

With a huff, Erika tried to run in heels, kids practically flying past her towards the buildings in the distance. Despite the Spring season, fog was building in the air and without a jacket, Erika was a shivering mess. She ended up falling repeatedly face-first on to the grass, having to spit out marsh and shake dirt out of her hair.

After her fifth time of falling on her face, she took off her heels and ran with them in her hand, grimacing as her bare feet touched the dewy ground.

Erika surprisingly made it to the English-styled front building of the institute along with the other victims, out of breath as a man in uniform ordered them to all line up in rows on the manicured field. In the sash windows of the stone edged buildings, Erika could have sworn she seen people peeking through the bland curtains.

The line of "troubled youth" mostly consisted of people like Erika - girls in expensive heels that were now tarnished from the run and boys who were anxiously looking down at their dirty Cartier watches and fussing with their hair. None of the kids looked below upper class.

Lakemond started a chilling walk down their rows. "Welcome to East Hampton Military Institute for Troubled Youth," She shouted more reasonably. "You've all been sent here because you're horrible children and your parents are tired of dealing with you," She locked eyes with Erika. "Luckily, we're here to set you straight."

She went down another row. "I'll explain a few of the main aspects that separate us from your usual, half-assed military schools. We're strict with discipline, strict with precision, and strict with the molding of individuality." She stopped in front of a girl fiddling with a gold hair pin - and snatched the pin out of her kinky golden blonde hair. The girl gulped. 

"We do not tolerate vacations except for Thanksgiving, Christmas, Summer, and country holidays. We do not tolerate expression through clothing and or accessories," She wrenched a watch out of a boy's hand. "And we do not tolerate activities that haven't been given the okay by a school advisor - and sex will never be an activity deemed appropriate so refrain from your idiotic questions."

A boy in the back row with a freckled face lowered his hand.

"This institute is running solely to help you all get on the right track," Lakemond said, stopping directly in front of Erika. "You will notice we offer mandatory counseling, emotional exercises, and rehabilitation - and some of you clearly need it." Her eyes locked chillingly with Erika's hazel ones and while Erika was often fierce, she had to look away from Lakemond's gaze.

Lakemond chuckled a bit as if she were mocking her before moving on, Erika suddenly feeling as drained and pathetic as last season's Micheal Kors collection. 

Erika wasn't one to cry, holding in each tear until she could compose herself but at that moment, she was on the brink of a full on breakdown.

Running hadn't been the worst part.

The worst part was running through a foggy field, grass and dirt in her hair, clothes ruined, and one heel broken all the way to some weird military school for weirdos....feeling alone.

She had started the day dreaming about golf games, father-daughter dates, late evenings listening to old 60s music from her Dad's generation, and playing exotic sports but instead, she was here.

Because Matthew wanted her here.

He had lied to her.

He didn't want golf games, father-daughter dates, 60s music, and exotic sports.

He wanted her to disappear.

And now, standing in an unfamiliar place, in the New York cold, Erika wanted to disappear too.

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A/N: I am so sorry for the length! It wasn't supposed to be this long!

Thank you to all who read <3 

(I wrote this at midnight so I'm kind of tired. Goodnight for now.)