Bullied? Not This Heiress

His face was redder than mine, but he shocked me. "Savannah, do you dare to make a bet with me?" He shocked me.

He met my eyes, the challenge clear.

"Bet on what?"

I tried to sound casual, but my heart was pounding.

"I bet I can get you onto Harvard's acceptance list, no matter how far apart we are."

His words sounded like the most beautiful love confession in the world. My heart pounded.

I looked up into his dark eyes, where sparks seemed to be burning.

Oh my god, I was actually falling for my former archenemy.

I couldn't help but tiptoe and kiss him.

Just a brush of lips. His whole face lit up. Seeing his ears instantly turn red, I felt both sweet and mischievous. "Mason, see you at Harvard!"

A week later, a sleek black Mercedes picked me up and took me to New York City.

I felt like I was in some kind of coming-of-age movie montage, suitcase in hand, city skyline whizzing by the window. Leather. New beginnings.

I met the fake heiress, Lily Chen.

She was exactly what I expected—poised, pretty, and just a little too perfect. On the living room display case were all her medals and trophies from childhood.

Just one glance was enough to make my underachiever's nerves ache.

The pressure was real!

It was like walking into a museum of everything I wasn't. She stood on the spiral staircase in a white dress, her eyes red at just the right moment. "Sister, welcome home."

Her voice was soft, trembling just enough to sound sincere. "It's all my fault. If I hadn't taken your place..."

Pop-up comments scrolled like crazy:

[High danger warning! Gonna sip my tea and watch this go down!]

[Help! The phone hidden behind her back is recording!]

[Real heiress, don't say anything! Don't get angry either—stand at least fifteen feet away from the fake heiress. She's about to fake a fall and frame you!]

Seriously? People actually do that?

I stepped back half a step and sure enough, saw her fingers move slightly.

Sale fruit at Walmart. Training paid off. My sharp eyes, honed from fighting over sale fruit at the local Walmart, finally paid off.

She messed with the wrong girl this time.

I fell before she could, rolling down the stairs under Lily's stunned gaze.

In a panic, I tried to grab her to steady myself, but only managed to grab her phone.

Wealthy mom came out of the kitchen with a fruit platter, shocked: "Lily, how could you push Savannah?"

Her voice was sharp, and she dropped the fruit platter on the counter, eyes wide.

Lily staggered, holding the railing: "Mom, it wasn't me, she rolled down on purpose to frame me."

She sounded desperate, her voice cracking. "She hates me for taking sixteen years of your love."

I only slid down two steps before grabbing the railing to steady myself.

I wasn't about to hurt myself just to get back at someone.

All those daytime soap operas weren't for nothing—I'm a master at playing innocent:

"Mom, don't blame her."

I gave my best doe-eyed look, the kind that always got me out of trouble with teachers.

"I was in the car for eight hours, my blood sugar's low, and I got dizzy."

After steadying myself, I realized I was still holding Lily's phone, so I deliberately exclaimed, "Oh, sis, why is your phone recording?"

I waved the phone a little, making sure everyone could see the red blinking light. "You like my voice that much? Gotta record our conversation to listen to over and over?"

"Did you fall for me at first sight?"

Wealthy dad rushed upstairs to help me up.

He also saw the phone was recording.

His face instantly darkened: "Lily, explain."

His voice left no room for argument. Lily's face turned pale as pop-up comments scrolled like mad:

[Holy crap, the real heiress is on another level this time!]

[Best comeback of the year. Finally not getting framed by the fake heiress and unable to defend herself. Just entered the house and the rich parents don't dislike her. I want more of this plot!]

Finally, something goes my way.

I'm not interested in getting stuck in family drama. Studying hard is what really matters!

I thought as long as I was determined to study, everything would work out.

But I never expected that after dinner, wealthy mom would hand me a practice test:

She slid the test across the table, her expression gentle but serious. "Savannah, your dad already talked to Lily."

"She just can't accept the sudden change, so she's feeling insecure."

"She'll get along with you from now on."

"By the way, here's a set of practice questions. Do them tonight."

"It's just a normal test, no need to be nervous."

Of course it's not just a normal test.

But the pop-up comments were going wild:

[Ahhh, this isn't a normal test—the last two questions are straight from Dr. Carter's Harvard prep boot camp last year.]

[Tong family parents are testing the real heiress's aptitude, sizing up her talent.]

[Once the test is done, the parents will know the real heiress is a dummy and be hugely disappointed. Even though the timeline sped up, none of the hardships can be avoided. What to do?]

A chill ran from my feet to the top of my head.

"Okay, mom."

I pretended to be calm, but inside I was panicking.

Back in my room, I immediately FaceTimed Mason, nearly crying: "Mason, help!"

My voice cracked, and I wiped my nose on my sleeve, not caring about appearances. "It's an emergency. Can you help me with a test packet?"

Mason's warm voice came through the video, like a miracle: "Send me the questions."

"Try them first. If you get stuck, ask me."

He looked tired but determined, like he’d stay up all night if I needed him. I clung to him like a drowning person grabbing a lifeline: "Okay!"

Are they watching us or something?

The pop-up comments cheered like a tidal wave:

[Beautiful! With Mason's help, the real heiress will definitely turn her fate around!]

[Is that look for teaching questions? That's clearly for teaching romance!]

[Even through the screen, there's so much chemistry!]

Focusing on the questions, I glanced up at the screen and caught Mason gazing at me affectionately.

When he realized I was looking, he looked away faster than a startled rabbit.

I pursed my lips, secretly amused.

On a whim, I blew him a kiss through the screen.

Mason panicked and stuttered, "W-what are you doing?"

His cheeks went pink, and he fiddled with his glasses. I deliberately batted my eyes like the girls on TV, sweetly: "Charging up. This question fried my brain and I still can't solve it."

"Mason, teach me."

Mason finally steadied his voice, clearing his throat: "Talk properly. Don't flutter your lashes. Which question is it?"

He tried to sound stern, but his ears were still bright red. What, he's not secretly in love with me?

Not falling for my charms?

I held the test up to the screen: "It's question eight. I have no idea."

Mason looked at it for a while, then started explaining.

His voice was calm and patient, breaking the problem down step by step. The pop-up comments exploded again:

[Is this tutoring? This is clearly the eyelash fairy seducing the innocent top student!]

[Mason's ears are so red they're about to bleed!]

[Cold on the outside, pure puppy on the inside. Who doesn't love this character!]

[Head-patting squad, where are you? Press their heads together through the screen!]

Do they ever stop?

I suspect the pop-up comments are trolling me.

How can they tell Mason's heart is fluttering?

He's obviously explaining the question seriously.

So controlled, he won't even let me bat my lashes or act cute.

After he finished explaining, Mason asked, "Did you get it?"

"Maybe, sort of, actually... I don't really get it."

I thought Mason would snap: [Are you brainless?]

But he didn't blame me at all. Instead, he patiently said, "Then I'll explain again."

"Honestly, this test is too hard for you."

"Work on your basics first, get the fundamentals down. Don't aim too high."

It's not that I'm aiming too high.

It's that fate isn't giving me time to catch up.

Looking at Mason's focused face, I said sincerely, "Mason, it's really good to have you."

Haha, this time I finally saw his ears turn red!

The next morning after breakfast, I handed the test to my wealthy mom.

She smiled, giving me a quick squeeze on the shoulder, and I could tell she was trying to be encouraging. Then I went with Lily to the new school to register.

The building was huge, all glass and steel, the kind of place where you feel small and out of place. We even ended up in the same class.

But I didn't expect that after just half a day, I was bullied in the girls' bathroom.

A few girls blocked my way: "You're the transfer from that little town, right?"

Their voices dripped with fake sweetness, like they practiced being mean in front of the mirror. "Heard you failed every subject at your old school?"

"You know the rules here? Losers have to do grunt work for the top students—"

I raised an eyebrow: "Dog for whom?"

I kept my tone light, but my heart was pounding. "For you!"

The tall girl blurted it out, then realized she'd fallen into my trap. She was furious and raised her hand to slap me: "You dare call me a dog?"

I grabbed her wrist right away.

My reflexes surprised even me. At the same time, I raised my phone, which was on a call: "Do you know who I'm talking to?"

The next second, the dean's voice came through the phone: "This is outrageous! I just told the new student there's no bullying here and she doesn't need to worry, and now someone's making me look bad?"

"Who is it? Stay where you are, I'm coming right now!"

"Savannah, don't worry, our school has zero tolerance for bullying!"

I hung up the call in front of the girls' pale faces.

I blinked at them innocently: "Did I call you that?"

"Aren't you the ones following Lily's lead to pick on me?"

What a joke, I'm a girl with pop-up comments!

Before I even walked into the girls' bathroom, I'd already seen the warning.

It said a few girls who always begged Lily for homework answers were going to use my old grades to humiliate me in the bathroom, make me kneel and humiliate myself, and cause me huge psychological trauma.

It scared me into calling the dean right away, asking sweetly, "Principal Evans, is there bullying in our school?"

I made sure my voice was extra sugary, like I was just a little concerned new student, and not someone about to turn the tables. Sometimes, being underestimated is the best weapon you have.