The Unwanted True Heiress's Spectacular Comeback

em back,

but her chemistry notes were in his hand. Brock Stone, star quarterback and king of Ansley Preparatory Academy, held them just out of her re

, their laughter echoing off the brick. They

nting at the page. "Is this even English?

, her voice trembling.

h harder. "A test? Oh n

e with your re

the jeers with the clean precision of a scal

lo and khakis. Instead, she had on a pair of worn black jeans, a faded band t-shirt, and a thin ja

nto a sneer. "Look what we have he

e crumpled notes in his hand. She took in the scene in a single, cold

t wasn't a request. It was a statement

ghed, and with a deliberate, theatrical motion, he crum

s the t

a high school fight. It was a fluid, startlingly fast

s already gone, ducking under his arm with an economy of motion that

flash of pol

even process what they were seeing

ffed, sun-bleached blond hair drifted

. The laughter died i

stubbly patch of hair. His face, a mask of arrogant amusement just a second ago, twis

he bellowed, hi

used that single, precious second of their s

un

uced paralysis. She scrambled to her feet,

f rage was pri

n't run blindly. She guided Sarah, her movements sure and certain, weaving through a maze of campus shortcuts

the open green space suddenly feeling vast and exposed. Students mill

, Alison gave Sarah a firm shove towards the imposing

her eyes wide with fear and

ent chase, away from the library. But her momentum was too great. S

g into a solid,

health center, moving with an air of detached, unhurried

of her. She stumbled back, the pair of professional-grade barber shears she'd

s, steadying her. The touch was surprisingly firm, the fi

nnoyed and ready

died in

she had ever seen. They were the color of a winter storm, and they wer

culously overqualified school doctor. And he had se