The Lost Heiress: Loved By Three

(Avery) The heat rushed to my face as Serena Vale casually swept my textbooks off the marble table in the library. The loud thud as they hit the floor drew attention from every corner. Just my luck. Seven days at this school and things were already going downhill fast. “Oops,” Serena said, pretending to be sweet, her diamond bracelet catching the chandelier light. “Guess I’m clumsy.” Her little group of followers giggled like it was the funniest thing they had ever seen. Their uniforms were spotless and tailored, while mine looked like it had gone through a dozen hands before reaching me. My navy blazer hung awkwardly, and the once white shirt had faded into a dull gray from too many washes. My thick glasses slid down my nose as I bent to pick up my books, drawing more snickers from the group. “Nice glasses,” one of the girls sneered. “Do you need a magnifying glass too? Or are you just planning to read the dust on the table?” I bent down to gather my books, my backpack slipping off my shoulder as I reached for my copy of Macbeth. The spine was cracked, the pages yellowed, definitely not the shiny new version everyone else carried. “Look at her,” one of the girls sneered. “She looks like a mouse scurrying for crumbs. Maybe she should hang out in the kids’ section.” I bit the inside of my cheek and stayed quiet. If I had learned anything this past week, it was that showing weakness only made things worse. I stood up, hugging my books to my chest. “Actually, I was reading the AP version,” I said calmly. “You know, the one with all the analysis? Might be a bit above your reading level.” Serena’s eyes narrowed. She stepped closer, and the overpowering smell of her designer perfume filled my nose. “Careful, scholarship girl. That mouth of yours is going to get you into real trouble.” Too late. Trouble had followed me into this school from the moment I walked through its glossy front doors. But the real issue was not that I was poor. It was that I was poor and still outscoring every single one of them. This week had felt like survival training. Tuesday, they dumped my lunch in the trash, saying it “smelled too cheap.” Wednesday, someone spray painted “Orphan trash” on my locker. Thursday, they blocked me in the bathroom while Serena gave me a full speech on staying in my place. But none of that compared to what really bothered them. I was killing it academically. While they hired tutors for basic algebra, I was acing every test. Professor Hamilton even praised my Gatsby essay in class, calling it “graduate level.” That was when everything blew up. Yesterday, the principal announced I had been chosen to give the freshman welcome speech. Me. The girl from the orphanage. Not Serena or any of her rich friends. “I heard she seduced Professor Hamilton,” Serena had said, loud enough for everyone to hear. “There’s no way someone like her got picked without doing something dirty.” The rumor spread like wildfire. I could not walk down the hall without hearing whispers or seeing people look away when I passed. Now, here she was again, playing it up for the crowd, aiming to finish what she started. “Everyone knows what you are,” Serena said, smiling like she already won. “A desperate orphan who will do whatever it takes. The teachers might fall for your little sob story, but we are not buying it.” I could feel the stares. No one was even pretending to study anymore. They were here for the show. “Let me guess,” I said, trying to keep my voice from trembling. “You think I flirted my way through Calculus too?” A few of her friends looked uncertain now. Hearing it out loud made their story sound as stupid as it was. “I think you are a fraud,” Serena snapped, but her confidence had started to c***k. “And I think people deserve to know who they are really dealing with.” Her voice was loud enough to make the air feel heavy, and then she did it. She lifted her hand, her nails shining under the light, and I knew she was about to slap me. Before she could touch me, a hand caught her wrist. Gasps erupted across the library. Standing between us was a tall boy with dark hair and eyes so blue they seemed carved from ice. His gaze moved to me for a fraction of a second, cold and dismissive, the same way it always had since I arrived. If Elias Carrington was here, it was not because he cared. His tone was flat, clipped, and carried more irritation than concern as he addressed Serena. “Do not create a scene.” I recognized him from the whispers that floated through the halls. Elias Carrington. Top of the senior class. Known for his ruthless debating skills, flawless grades, and a family whose influence stretched far beyond the city’s borders. The Carringtons were one of the oldest and most powerful families in town. Everyone knew the name and what it meant, even if I did not. He had always treated me like I was an unwelcome guest. Before Serena could respond, another figure stepped in on my other side. This one had messy brown hair that looked like he had run his hands through it one too many times, paired with warm brown eyes that somehow managed to hold a dangerous glint. “You should walk away now,” he said, his voice calm but sharp enough to cut. That was Jackson Reed, the easy going athlete everyone liked, until they found out he had a temper when it came to injustice. The third boy appeared just behind me, leaning against the table with casual elegance. Blonde hair, ocean blue eyes, and the kind of smile that made people both swoon and worry. Luca Monroe. The heir to a hotel empire, known for throwing the biggest parties in the city. “Go ahead, Serena. Try it,” he said, his voice light yet carrying enough weight to silence her friends. “I would love to see how quickly this gets back to your father.” Students exchanged bewildered glances, whispers rippling through the crowd like an electric current. The three most untouchable boys in school were standing together, against Serena Vale. For me? Why? Before Serena could gather her pride, a voice from the doorway cut through the tension. “Avery.” I turned, confused, and saw a man and woman standing there in perfectly tailored clothes. The man’s green eyes mirrored my own. The woman’s hands trembled as she reached for me. Everyone in the city knew them. Their wealth, power, and influence touched every corner, from the private schools to the mayor’s office. They owned half the businesses on Main Street and funded the rest. "You're our long lost daughter," the man said to me, his voice steady but thick with emotion. "The heiress of Blake Industries." The library went so quiet I could hear my own heartbeat.