Chapter 13 Why Go Through All That Trouble?
The crisp click of high heels echoed down the hallway as Emily strutted in wearing the latest limited-edition designer shoes. She positioned herself at the front of the classroom, her chin tilted slightly upward in a pose reminiscent of a regal swan.
She had her hair professionally styled that morning, diamond earrings sparkling in the sunlight, her long, pale legs exposed beneath her outfit—every detail meticulously crafted for perfection.
Just as Emily opened her mouth to introduce herself, homeroom teacher, Elara West, cut straight to the point, "Everyone should already know about Sophia's family situation. This is Emily—say hello, everyone."
Such a brief introduction left Emily visibly displeased. She raised her hand slightly, the Patek Philippe starry night watch on her wrist catching the light with scattered reflections.
With an air of superiority, she announced, "Hello, everyone, I'm Emily, the biological daughter of the Smith family."
The class showed little reaction, and Elara promptly cut off any further grandstanding, "Emily, take that empty seat in the back row."
Deprived of the awe and flattery she'd expected, Emily gritted her teeth and walked directly to Sophia's desk instead. "This seat has nice lighting. Mind moving?"
Sophia leaned back in her chair, looking up with a barely perceptible smile, "Emily, you should check the student handbook—seating by student ID is school policy."
Emily's face stiffened, then she stubbornly retorted, "I'm nearsighted."
Sophia couldn't help but laugh, though she said nothing.
Because Elara would handle Emily's seat-grabbing attempt, "Emily, school rules dictate seating by student number. If you have vision problems, go get a note from the nurse's office later, and I'll arrange a seat change."
Emily dug her nails into her palms, shooting Sophia a venomous glare before stalking toward the back row.
Elara didn't care whose children were in his classroom—to him, they were all just students.
Seeing Emily seated, he got straight to business, "Everyone, submit your holiday assignments on time. The economics papers have been plagiarism-checked and graded. Sophia takes first place again this semester, and the school will recommend her paper to an economics journal.
"The aesthetics course assignments are still being reviewed by the committee—top three finalists will earn charity fundraiser eligibility as usual. Equestrian and golf classes will have their assessments this afternoon. Anyone who doesn't pass should practice harder—there's a makeup exam next week."
The class erupted in collective groans.
"Save me! We have to write papers every year—at this point, our school's internal plagiarism database is probably 60% complete. I don't want to rewrite!"
"Ha! The aesthetics assignment is brutal, too. Only three spots every time, and I've never been selected once! My grandfather's already disappointed in me!"
"Well, with your flowers that don't look like flowers and grass that doesn't look like grass, the judges would have to be blind to pick you."
"You don't get it—Van Gogh is my inspiration!"
"All that's manageable, but equestrian is torture! I haven't even seen a horse during the two-month break!"
"Sophia's still the queen though—aces every assessment, every subject, every year."
"Sophia, why don't you withdraw your assignment and fail something for once? Life without failing a class is incomplete!"
Sophia waved her hand mysteriously, "To give you all a fighting chance, my brother did the aesthetics assignment."
The moment she said this, everyone around her looked at her with mock disdain.
"Well, thank you so much for your generous mercy!"
"Enough chatter. Take your papers back and review them. Anyone whose plagiarism check failed needs to resubmit this week. Stay sharp and don't get cocky." Elara tapped his desk to quiet the classroom, then had the teaching assistant distribute the hard copies.
Starting with the economics first period was brutal—everyone seemed half-asleep and unfocused.
Only when the bell rang did they snap back to life.
Students began clustering in groups of two or three, chatting about their holidays or recent business trends.
"Sophia, fresh-off-the-press business proposal, take a look?" Sean Gray perched on the desk behind Sophia, leaning forward to hand her a stack of papers.
"Everyone's saying this project is dead in the water, but you've revised the proposal three times and still won't give up?" Sophia sighed helplessly but opened the materials for a quick scan.
Her usual crew gathered around, joining the conversation.
"How's the new commercial district development going? My family wants a piece of the action, any opportunities?"
"I'd advise against it. The latest news says the city is planning road construction there. It'll be a ghost town! The Hamilton family threw big money at it, hoping to make a profit, and now those shares are stuck in their hands with nowhere to cry."
"I know about that! The Hamilton family even wanted Sophia's help and got thrown out the door."
"That's so shameless! Didn't the Hamilton family snub Sophia on that previous project? Now they're regretting it?"
Sean laughed, "The Hamilton family was genuinely stupid—they thought giving Sophia the cold shoulder would win Andrew's favor. In the end, Andrew was the one who threw them out."
Sophia chuckled without looking up, "Don't drag me into it. Everyone in our circle knows I have a grudge against them."
Watching their group interact so harmoniously, completely unbothered by Sophia no longer being part of the Smith family, Emily clenched her skirt tightly.
This should have been her circle, her position!
She was the real heiress, so what was wrong with these people? Instead of coming to greet her, they were fawning over that little bitch, Sophia?
Emily's expression darkened terrifyingly as she gripped her skirt, nails nearly digging into her flesh.
She suppressed the rage churning inside her, stood up, and walked over to stand in front of Sophia's desk, her voice carefully measured, "Sophia, I heard you're ranked first in the grade. I haven't studied economics before. Could I borrow your notes from previous years?"
The classroom fell silent for a few seconds. Sophia looked up, her gaze calm as still water, "I don't have notes. You can borrow Amelia's."
Amelia promptly offered her notebook with a smile so diplomatically perfect it could have come from a foreign minister, "You're welcome."
Emily gritted her back teeth, feeling utterly humiliated, "If you don't want to lend them, just say so. Don't make excuses. A fake still pretending to be nice!"
Sophia watched her quietly, then suddenly smiled, "If you want to start trouble, just start trouble. Why go through all that trouble with the note excuse?"