Chapter 6
Aubree clicked her tongue. “You’re burning my retinas.”
Carmen blinked, clueless. “What?”
“That saintly glow of yours,” Aubree said, her voice ice dripping with shade. She was totally calling out Carmen’s busybody act.
Carmen’s eyes got all beary, and she stood there, looking like a kicked puppy.
Cue the rescue squad. Some dude jumped in, all fired up. “Aubree, don’t act too big for your boots! Carmen’s just being nice, worrying about you. You’re not even close to her level!”
Aubree brushed Carmen’s hand off, smirking. “Oh, really? That fancy art program Carmen’s in? That was my spot. I gave it to her.”
If one got picked for Rithol Art School’s elite art camp and didn’t want it, they could pass it to someone else. But no one even did that.
Her words hit like a grenade. The guy froze, jaw dropped, disbelief all over his face.
Carmen was the Wilson family’s golden girl. To keep it that way, Aubree had to stay in the shadows. Some of Carmen’s “masterpiece” paintings? Yeah, those were Aubree’s.
But Aubree was tired of hiding. She wanted her shot to shine.
She’d secretly signed up for the Rithol Art School exam, hoping to surprise everyone. But, as always, the Wilsons only saw Carmen as the one who deserved the spotlight.
The room buzzed with gasps.
“Aubree’s giving up her spot, is she, like, way more talented than Carmen?” they wondered. “The teacher didn’t shut it down, so…maybe it’s true? And now she’s switching to regular classes? Is she nuts?”
All eyes flicked to Carmen, laced with doubt. The Wilson family’s “real heiress vs. fake heiress” drama had everyone guessing what was legit.
Carmen’s perfect smile slipped for a split second, showing a flash of raw jealousy.
‘How dare Aubree spill that tea?’ she fumed to herself. “Isn’t she scared of pissing me off and getting chewed out by the family?”
Carmen figured Aubree should be groveling for their approval, playing the sad sidekick to make her look like the perfect, big-hearted Wilson heiress.
Outside the open classroom door, two figures – one tall, one short – watched it all go down.
Bowen Turner raised an eyebrow. He was just dropping off his nephew and checking out his investment in the school. He didn’t expect to see her again.
And she wasn’t the Aubree he’d pictured.
“Is that Aubree?” Bowen squinted at the skinny girl in the classroom. She looked frailer than in those old photos from three years ago. Hadn’t grown an inch.
‘And those shoes…’ he mused. ‘The ones from her fifteenth birthday? How’d she come back looking this rough?’
Alvin Tuner shot his uncle a curious look. His uncle had been in Odionland for three years, hustling for the family business. No way he’d know the Wilson family’s lost-and-found heiress.
“You know her, Uncle Bowen?” he asked.
“Heard some talk,” Bowen said, all casual, like he was just asking about a random name. “She’s a Wilson, right? Doesn’t look it.”
Alvin shrugged. “Yeah, the Wilsons treat her like garbage. Worse than their help. Rumor is, she fought with them and split.”
Bowen nodded, dropping it. “Get to class, kid. I gotta chat with your principal. Later.”
He didn’t go near the classrooms. As he walked off, he texted his assistant.
When Kelvin Malone saw the message – his boss wanting dirt on a high school girl – he nearly choked.
“He finally crushing on someone?” Kelvin thought. He’d been with Bowen since college, and the guy never gave women a second glance.
Still, Kelvin’s stomach flipped. ‘She’s gotta be eighteen, right? He’s not that dumb….’
Bowen had no idea his assistant was freaking out.
Alvin watched his uncle leave, scratching his head. “What’s his deal? Old guy having a midlife meltdown already?”
He shrugged, strolled into class, tossed his bag on a chair, and zoned out for a nap. The weird vibe in the room? Didn’t care.
The second he walked in, Aubree saw Carmen tense up. She didn’t check who it was – didn’t matter.
Shoving past some guy in her way, Aubree ditched art class without a glance back.
She was late. By the time she hit Class 13, the teacher was already talking.
Thanks to her homeroom teacher’s heads-up, the teacher just waved her in to grab a seat.
After class, during the break, Class 13 – usually a nerdy, quiet senior class – was whispering like crazy.
Aubree felt eyes on her and frowned. “If Carmen’s why everyone in art class was gawking, what’s the deal now?” she thought to herself.
She wasn’t stupid. Something was up.
“You Aubree?” her deskmate asked, a girl with a short, spiky wolf tail haircut, eyeing her like she was trouble.
“Yup,” Aubree said, keeping it short.
“Name’s Matilda Diaz. Bet you haven’t seen the school forum yet, huh?”
Matilda’s hint was enough. Aubree grabbed her phone and checked the forum. Total mess – posts tearing her apart, some telling her to drop dead.
They called her a snake, said she tried to kill someone.
At the top, a pinned post screamed she’d pushed her foster sister down the stairs at some fancy party, getting her kicked out of the Wilson family.
No surprise. Carmen’s work, obviously.
Step one was getting Aubree tossed from the Wilsons – check. Step two? Making school hell for her, too.
To Carmen, Aubree’s face didn’t show a hint of worry or anger.
“You’re not pissed?” Matilda asked, head tilted, totally confused.
Aubree flicked through her phone, barely looking up. “Pissed? Over this? It’s nothing.” The half-baked lies and garbage posted about her on the school forum? Just Carmen’s weak attempt to drag her down.
In her old life with the Wilson family, she’d faced way worse – stuff that made this look like a bad prank.
Carmen wasn’t trying to work her in one go. Nah, she was playing the long game, planting seeds to make people see Aubree in a certain light. So when something popped off, folks would just shrug and say, “Yup, that’s Aubree Tipares.”
That was exactly how the Wilsons had cornered her, step by slimy step, until she was nothing but a caricature to them.
A sly grin tugged at her lips. She’d survived that mess once. If she hadn’t learned her lesson by now, there was no point of a second shot.
She pulled up a video on her phone and posted it to the forum, using her real name.
It was security footage from the Wilson estate, grabbed from the control room before she ditched that life. She’d been ready for Carmen’s cheap shots.
Matilda, sitting next to her, peeked at the video and gave Aubree a look, like she wanted to say something but held back.
Aubree just shrugged, like it was no big deal, and didn’t bother checking the forum again.
Across campus, a few school higher-ups trailed Bowen, kissing up while giving him the VIP tour.
“Mr. Turner, we can’t thank you enough for your investment. The kids at Rithol High are so lucky to have this amazing school,” the principal said, his bald head gleaming under the sun, two stray hairs flapping as he yammered on.
“Totally,” another official chimed in. “Our students are top notch, future superstars!”
“Superstars, huh?” Bowen’s tone had a sharp edge nobody could quite place.
He let out a quiet scoff, glancing at his phone. His assistant, Kelvin, had sent a report, including the whole forum drama.
“So, your ‘top-notch’ kids spend their time ganging up on someone online for kicks?” he said, raising an eyebrow. The principal’s proud hairs seemed to droop.
It was a muggy September day in Rithol City, and the principal mopped sweat off his brow. “Mr. Turner-”
“Take a look,” Bowen said, handing over his phone. Kelvin, quick as ever, had pinned down the worst culprits – the ones fanning the flames online.
The principal’s face went pale as he scrolled. The school’s biggest investor was here for the first time, and despite all his planning, this mess had popped up in his face. “We’ll sort this out, I promise!” he stammered.
Bowen pocketed his phone, his voice cold as ice. “Didn’t you say this place pumps out the best? No room for bad apples, right?”
His polite smile didn’t touch his eyes. Nobody was dumb enough to think he was happy.
The principal, practically trembling, tested the waters. “So… expel them?”
“Your school, your rules,” Bowen said with a sharp nod, but his eyes were hard as steel.
How could she just take that crap? he thought, his mind spinning.
He clenched his jaw, his gaze dark and stormy.