The Genius Heiress: Reclaiming Her Stolen Life

The black Maybach pulled up smoothly to the wrought-iron gates of the Aphrodite Royal Conservatory. The driver got out and opened the rear door. Scarlett stepped out. Her red-soled heels hit the pavement with a sharp click. The courtyard was packed with Ivy League prep students. The moment Scarlett stepped out of the car, the noise died. Hundreds of eyes turned to look at her. Whispers broke out like a sudden gust of wind. People pointed. They muttered about the frat party last week, about the tears, about the humiliation. Scarlett kept her face completely blank. She walked straight through the courtyard, their judgment a meaningless static she had long since learned to ignore. She did not give them a single glance. Tanya Sutkowski stepped into her path. Two of her followers flanked her. Tanya held a large iced Americano in her right hand. "Look who decided to show up," Tanya said, her voice loud and mocking. "Wearing a black suit? Did you come to attend your own funeral, Scarlett?" Laughter erupted from the students standing nearby. They waited for Scarlett's face to crumble. They waited for the tears. Scarlett stopped walking. She looked directly into Tanya's eyes. Tanya's smile faltered. A cold shiver ran down her spine under that dead, unblinking stare. Anger flushed Tanya's cheeks. She raised her hand, ready to throw the freezing coffee right at Scarlett's face. Scarlett's hand shot out. She grabbed Tanya's wrist with brutal precision. She twisted it backward. The plastic cup crushed. The dark, sticky coffee exploded all over Tanya's expensive Chanel tweed jacket. Tanya shrieked. The sound was deafening. She raised her free hand and swung it hard at Scarlett's face. Scarlett caught the movement. She brought her own hand up and slapped Tanya across the left cheek. The crack of the slap echoed across the courtyard. Absolute silence fell over the crowd. Tanya lost her balance. She stumbled backward and fell hard onto the grass by the fountain. She held her red, stinging cheek, staring up at Scarlett in pure shock. Scarlett reached into her pocket. She pulled out a white silk handkerchief. She slowly wiped her fingers, one by one. A sharp beep sounded in her head. "Mandatory task initiated," the system announced. "Target: Bode Silva, Head of Discipline. Establish interaction." Heavy, rhythmic footsteps approached from the edge of the crowd. The students quickly stepped aside, creating a clear path. Bode Silva walked through. He wore the pristine academy uniform. The silver badge of the Disciplinary Committee gleamed on his chest. His face was set in rigid, unforgiving lines. Tanya saw him and immediately started sobbing. "Bode! She attacked me! She just walked up and hit me!" Bode ignored Tanya. His sharp eyes locked onto Scarlett. He flipped open the black disciplinary clipboard in his hands. His voice was monotone, completely devoid of warmth. "Article 12 of the Academy Code," Bode recited. "Physical violence against a fellow student is strictly prohibited. You are hereby placed on academic probation. Ten credits will be deducted from your record." Scarlett finished wiping her hands. She dropped the soiled silk handkerchief. It landed right on Tanya's lap. Scarlett took a step forward. She crossed the invisible boundary of Bode's personal space. Bode's chest tightened. His instinct was to step back, but his pride rooted his feet to the ground. He glared down at her. Scarlett tilted her head up. She leaned in close. "Article 8, Section 3," Scarlett whispered. Her voice was so low only he could hear it. "Attempting to assault a student with a foreign substance constitutes malicious provocation. The penalty is a fifteen-credit deduction." Bode's fingers tightened around his clipboard. His knuckles turned white. He stared at her. A dangerous, confused light flickered in his eyes.