Chapter 1

On enrollment day, the advisor handed everyone a form.

Parents' occupations, mode of transportation, household annual income. Every last detail had to be filled in.

I've always kept a low profile, so under my parents' occupations I wrote driver and housekeeper.

The next day, the way my classmates looked at me had changed. Even the campus heartthrob who'd shown interest in me at the start of the semester turned around and started fawning over Michelle Fox.

I didn't care.

Then came the day of military training. My stomach acted up and I asked the advisor for leave, only to have her jab a finger in my face and lay into me: "I've seen plenty of girls like you. There's no excuse you won't cook up just to dodge work. Let me tell you, as long as you've still got a breath in you today, you'll stand out there to the very end."

But when Michelle Fox raised her hand for leave, the advisor didn't even lift her head before letting her go.

When I demanded to know why, she sneered at me instead: "What makes you think you can compare yourself to Michelle? Her father donated a billion to this school. If you've got it in you, have your father donate too."

"Oh, right! I forgot your father's just a driver. He's not even fit to fetch her shoes."

The whole crowd burst out laughing.

Only then did it hit me. That form we filled out at enrollment was so she could size everyone up and treat them accordingly.

I just wondered what her face would look like when she found out I was the one she was talking about, the daughter of the richest family who'd donated a billion to the school.

1

The pain had drained my face white. I couldn't be bothered to trade words with her and turned to leave.

The advisor rushed over and clamped both hands around me like a pair of iron pincers.

"Stop right there! If you dare walk off today, that's cutting class. You'll get a formal disciplinary report, and it'll drag down the whole class's ranking. Getting punished yourself is one thing, but how can you be so selfish and drag everyone down with you?"

My stomach clenched in waves, the pain bad enough to break me out in a cold sweat.

Same sick leave request, and Michelle Fox got off without a thing, while for me it was a disciplinary report and dragging down the whole class. I hadn't realized the school's rules could stretch so conveniently.

I gritted my teeth and shook her off. "Let go. Whatever the consequences are, I'll carry them myself."

If I didn't get to a hospital, I really was going to die right here.

Watching my face go whiter and whiter, one girl couldn't stand it. "I think she really might not be feeling well. Maybe we should—"

Before she could finish, the others cut her off, dripping with sarcasm.

"She's not feeling well? I'm not feeling well either. You girls will invent any lie to get out of training."

"I think she's just a copycat. Not sick sooner, not sick later. Michelle takes sick leave, and suddenly she's sick too. I'd say what's really bothering her is jealousy."

"And all that talk about carrying the consequences herself. Can you even carry them? You're just running your mouth. If you drag the rest of us down, we won't let it go."

They piled on me one after another, and the girl fell silent, not daring to speak up for me again.

"Some people, if you weren't born for it, don't go putting on the princess act. You can't afford it, and nobody's going to indulge you."

Michelle Fox came sauntering over, slurping her bubble tea, her face flushed and healthy.

A few of the boys doubled over laughing.

"Miss Fox is right."

"Everybody knows she's just a driver's daughter. Not like you, the heiress of the richest family. She's not fit to compare with you."

The advisor's smile turned outright obsequious. "Michelle, go rest under the tree if you're not feeling well. In this sun, if you got heatstroke, how would I ever answer to your father?"

Ernest Harding was right there too, propping her up. "Michelle, let me help you to the classroom to rest."

Watching every one of those grasping, mercenary faces, there was nothing left for me to figure out.

They thought Michelle Fox was the heiress of the richest family, so they scrambled to curry favor with her, while they came down hard on me, the "driver's" daughter.

Another cramp twisted through my stomach. I clutched my belly and moved to leave.

The advisor's face flipped in an instant. She grabbed me and refused, no matter what, to let me go.

I laughed out of pure anger.

I pulled out my phone and called Oliver. "Oliver, my stomach's bad. Come to the school and pick me—"

Before I could finish, the advisor snatched the phone away.

"Stella Mason, let me tell you, it's no use even if you call your father here today."

"These are the school's rules. We can't let one rotten apple spoil the whole class."

"This training, you're taking part whether you like it or not. It's not up to you to say no."