The Billionaires Unauthentic Daughter

"Miss James." My Bio cluster/Genetics professor, Mrs. Brown said calmly in surprise. I looked at her with apologetic eyes.

"I'm sorry, professor." I said, clutching the strap of my bag on my shoulder nervously as I became aware of several eyes on me.

She gave me a look through her thick red rimmed glasses, pushing them further up her nose. "Do you realize that you are almost twenty five minutes late to the class?"

"I know, but someone-"

"I don't want excuses. You must not be late to class. Either be on time or don't come at all."

I dropped my gaze from her to the floor. Mrs. Brown was a bit hot headed lady. She was kind and good but she could be scary if she wanted to. And no one dared to be late to her class. But I was. It just so happened that a girl accidentally spilled her drink all over me before class and I had gone to clean up. And I didn't even hear the bell signaling that Mrs. Brown's class had started.

"If you were a mere five minutes late, it would have been okay, Ms. James but do you realize that you are twenty five minutes late? Twenty five is a lot."

"I-I'm sorry," I stammered, a result of being the center?of attention of so many people.

"Well I'm sorry too for I'll have to take one point from your academic performance."

"No!" I burst out. "I mean, Mrs. Brown please no, don't do this. It won't happen again. Please."

"Give me one reason why I shouldn't, Ms. James. Do you realize how bad you performed in the last test?" She asked.

I remained silent. I had done pretty bad?? on that test. The concepts weren't easy and I rarely had time to study because of my part-time job.

"Do you even remember what is Centimorgan, Aneuploidy, Monosomy and Trisomy? I'm pretty sure you learned it in your AP Biology class in your high school."

I looked at her with a sheepish smile plastered on my face. "Uh, Centimorgan is a...genetic disorder in which a person has four-no, um three copies of a chromosome instead of two," I said unsurely, looking at her hopefully.

"That is Trisomy. Not Centimorgan."

"Oh, um...sorry." I said quickly. Her stare intimidated me and I looked down again at the suddenly interesting patterns on the tiles, hoping she would disappear into thin air.

"You don't know what that is? Two points will be taken away." She said calmly. "I don't want you in my class today."

I didn't budge. "Please."