Lost the Golden Ticket, Found My Own Path

"Of course they don't know each other. The fake heiress lost her Westbridge University spot, so now she's resorting to cheap tricks to seduce Spencer. She's downright shameless for always trying to steal the real heiress' man."

Me? Trying to seduce Spencer? What an absurd, pathetic assumption.

I straightened the desk that had been kicked askew expressionlessly and erased the butterfly doodle with my eraser.

Then, under the mix of sympathetic, scornful, and gloating stares, I walked out of the class with my head held high.

I never needed anyone's charity to walk my own path, nor would I ever stoop to stealing from someone else.

In the end, the acceptance letter would speak for itself.

…

The atmosphere at home was tense in a subtle, unspoken way.

Nicole had become the center of everyone's attention. The glow of Westbridge University clung to her like a medal of honor, blotting out every trace of her rebellious, reckless past.

For the first time in months, my dad and my mom, Sybil Pascal, were smiling with genuine pride. Their eyes shone with indulgence as they looked at her.

"Nicky, you really make us proud!" Dad boomed, clapping Nicole on the shoulder. "Our daughter, majoring in physics at Westbridge University! That's the way it should be."

"Gloria." Mom gave me a sidelong glance, her tone tinged with pity and dismissal. "We've fed you, clothed you, given you a good education all these years, and this is your score?

"Don't take it the wrong way, but just compare yourself to Nicky. Some people are just born winners, and you're definitely not one of them."

Dad frowned and said impatiently, "You're not our real flesh and blood, after all. So, it's no wonder you're so slow. However, even so, I thought there should be some bond after we've raised you all these years.

"If you'd made something of yourself, we could at least hold our heads high. What happened in the end? You chose is a complete joke.

"You'll never be anything but a dead weight!"

"Dad, Mom!" Nicole slipped her arm through Mom's at just the right moment. "Don't be so hard on Gloria. Harrington University is quite a decent school as well. After she graduates, she can always be an accountant somewhere.

"It's a safe and steady job that sounds just right for her."

The condescension in her so-called comfort pricked like a needle.

"Priceless! Mr. and Mrs. Stewart have finally seen the fake heiress for who she really is."

"A no-name school for a no-name student—it's perfect! Honestly, even a dog raised by the Stewarts for ten years would be smarter than her. How is the fake heiress this dumb?"

I listened to these cruel words in silence, saying nothing.

Indeed, Harrington University wasn't great. However, it wasn't terrible either.

Yet if I, this so-called fake heiress, wasn't the best or the "main character" the comment feed claimed I was, then all of it would be meaningless.

Before the acceptance letter arrived, I signed up for a national youth programming competition and also took a part-time job at a nearby cafe to try to earn as much as possible for my tuition and living expenses.

While Nicole slept in, I was already out the door. In the evening, Dad and Mom fussed over Nicole, asking about her day and sharing all kinds of funny stories about Westbridge University.

By the time I dragged my tired body home, I could only wolf down a few bites of cold leftovers before shutting myself in my room, coding and debugging my competition project in front of the computer screen.

The live chat never stopped mocking me.

"Wow, the fake heiress sure is hardworking. Are you enjoying your life as a barista?"

"Pretending to type away like some tech genius reincarnated? Give me a break."

"Getting used to the life of the working class? Good! You'd better, since that's all you'll ever have."

…

A few days later, Dad and Mom threw a lavish party to celebrate Nicole's admission to Westbridge University.

Nearly every prominent business figure in the city, and even across the state, showed up to congratulate Nicole and my parents.