The Tycoon's Daughter: A Bitter Inheritance

crawling up the stone walls. The lawns were a perfect, manicured green. Students milled around, laughing and talking, dressed in

eel like a costume. I pulled my backpack tighter on my shoulders and kept my he

when a cheerful voice cal

and a flawlessly styled blonde ponytail. I recognized

," I said, f

elt unnatural, too familiar. "Hey, this is going to sound random, but I was leaving a party late the

ied, my voice sounding thin. "I don' t know who t

u know, a huge deal around here. Her dad is Richard Thompson. Can y

nk. The seating was assigned. I found my name card on a desk in the middle of the room.

pped betw

mmediately opening a sleek laptop. Ben slumped into his chair, put on his headphones, and closed his eyes. To the

He was speaking French. Apparently, this advanced economics course was taught entirely in French to pre

ew completely over my head. The other students were scribbling notes. I just sat there, frozen, a wave of hopelessness washing over me. My

rs welling up in my eyes and I blinked

had pushed his tablet onto my desk. He hadn't moved, hadn't opened his eyes, but on the screen of the tablet was

French words transform into sentences

eyes were still closed,

my voice barely a wh

almost imperceptible shake of his head and grun