Chapter 133 Ask for Trouble, Pay the Price (1)
School Celebration Day.
It was Dorian who had told Amelia and the others that the event they were preparing for was originally just Prestige High School's annual fair—a campus celebration open to the public but never more than a local affair. That changed the moment Ryan and Yvette posted on Instagram last Friday, announcing they would attend. Overnight, Prestige High's name spread across the country.
Fans of Ryan and Yvette, along with curious onlookers, flooded social media with questions about how to get in. The search term "Prestige High School Celebration" broke a million hits on Instagram within days.
The school had to scramble to respond. To control the crowd, they raised the price of tickets for non-students from eighty yuan to three hundred, and limited entry to between 10 a.m. and 4 p.m. Even so, the ten thousand tickets they released sold out in under twenty minutes.
If it hadn't been a weekday, with some fans unable to take time off work, and if flights into River City weren't so expensive or hard to book, the tickets might have vanished in less than ten minutes. By Tuesday, scalpers were selling the three-hundred-yuan tickets for three thousand, and Ryan's fans were still buying without hesitation.
The power of a top-tier celebrity was staggering.
That morning, Amelia didn't head to Prestige High with Zander and Tobias. She went first to the apartment to pick up Belle, which meant they arrived later than planned.
By the time they reached the school, the scene outside was already overwhelming. Belle's fingers tightened around the hem of Amelia's shirt, her eyes wide.
It was nearly nine-thirty, and the street outside was lined with parked cars. A dense crowd of young men and women pressed against the gates, holding banners for Ryan and Yvette, eyes shining with anticipation. Some had tickets and were waiting for the gates to open. Others had failed to get tickets and had come just to catch a glimpse of their idols.
Mixed in with the fans were entertainment reporters and camera crews, their equipment ready, lenses trained on the entrance. The atmosphere had the intensity of a red-carpet premiere, not a high school celebration.
Uniformed police stood watch, keeping the crowd in check, ready to prevent accidents.
"Should've come earlier," Amelia said, taking a deep breath and clasping Belle's hand. "Now we're going to have to fight our way in."
They began pushing forward, weaving through the crush of bodies. They were nearly at the gate when a sudden wave of screaming erupted, the sound so loud it made Amelia's ears ring. The crowd surged, forcing them back to where they'd started.
Amelia exhaled slowly, forcing herself to stay calm. Her gaze lifted toward the source of the commotion—a luxury van worth millions had stopped just short of the gate. Seven or eight towering bodyguards moved into position, carving a path through the crowd. The van's door slid open with deliberate slowness, stoking anticipation.
The first thing to appear was a hand—slender, pale, manicured to perfection. The owner of the hand carried herself like royalty, accepting the bodyguard's offered arm before stepping down.
Her face was revealed, and the reaction was instantaneous. "Yvette!" someone shouted, and the name was echoed by dozens of voices. Reporters surged forward, shutters clicking.
Yvette looked exactly as she did on television—pure-faced, with large eyes that seemed to plead for protection. Her features weren't sharply defined, but they were sweet, her skin luminous. She was all delicate limbs and narrow shoulders, barely ninety pounds, the kind of fragile beauty that was currently in vogue.
She was supposed to be here as a volunteer server, but her outfit suggested she was ready for a gala. A custom princess dress in airy organza, puffed sleeves, ruffled trim, and a skirt embroidered with whimsical Doraemon figures. Under the glare of cameras, she flashed her practiced, sugary smile, and the crowd screamed again.
Rachel stepped out next. Her dress was a pastel blue-and-white puffball confection, accessorized with Doraemon earrings and a matching necklace. Her hair was styled into a playful bun, with soft curls framing her face, exposing the elegant line of her neck and collarbones.
Her look had been crafted with precision, and she could almost rival Yvette in presence. The reporters, initially focused solely on Yvette, turned their lenses toward Rachel, surprised by the Martinez family heiress's striking appearance.
Around them, voices murmured in awe.
"My God… the difference between celebrities and ordinary people is unreal. She's gorgeous."
"That's the dress Rachel had custom-made at The Thorn Birds, isn't it? No wonder it's stunning."
"I heard only level-two members can order custom pieces from them."
"Level two?"
"Yeah—means you've spent over two million US dollars there."
"Two million? That's enough to buy a house for most people, and she spends it on clothes. People really do live in different worlds."
Amelia ignored the chatter. She was focused on getting inside and finding Dorian. But Rachel's gaze swept the crowd, sharp and searching, and landed on her. Her eyes lit up.
"Amelia! What are you doing here? How come I didn't know my little sister was coming?"
Amelia turned, but Rachel's voice carried, pitched high and sweet. She was at the center of attention, and with that one call, every nearby head turned toward Amelia.
They saw a girl with no makeup, long hair tied up carelessly, wearing an oversized black T-shirt and shorts that could have been sleepwear. For a moment, the crowd faltered.
Amelia had made waves online before, but always in niche circles—like the piano competition that had drawn attention from musicians, not the general public. Most of the people here had no idea who she was. What they did know was that Rachel was the Martinez family's only daughter.
The word "sister" from Rachel sparked confusion. Quickly, someone in the crowd explained: Amelia was the Martinez family's illegitimate child, brought from the countryside to River City. Her mother had been Robert's mistress.
The gossip spread like wildfire. The Martinez family was wealthy, and wealthy families always had scandals.
Eyes shifted between Rachel, immaculate and refined, and Amelia, plain and casual. Disdain crept into their expressions. One was a pampered socialite; the other, a rural-born outsider. The difference in bearing was stark.
And in their minds, a child born of an affair could only be trouble. Amelia's beauty was dismissed as dangerous, the kind that would lure men. Worse, she was a Prestige High student—showing up dressed like this was, in their view, a disgrace to the Martinez name.
Modern society might have changed, but contempt for "the other woman" and her children still ran deep. Faces around Amelia hardened.
Rachel stepped forward, her smile warm, her hand closing around Amelia's as if they were the closest of sisters.
"Amelia, it's our school's celebration today. Why would you come dressed like this?"
"You've opened a booth too, right? Don't you have a uniform?"
Rachel tilted her head, feigning realization. "Oh… I get it. You didn't get a sponsor, did you?"
Her voice was gentle, sympathetic. "Why didn't you tell me earlier? If I'd known, I could've had The Thorn Birds make you something when I ordered my dress. You wouldn't have had to come looking like this."