Chapter 3Real Heiress, Fake Noble Family

Under pressure from my grandmother, the Sterlings reluctantly paid to enroll me in a prestigious local university, in the same program as Lily.

I hadn’t been in school for long before Lily decided it was time to make her move.

It was an eight a.m. class. The moment I stepped through the door, I felt every eye in the room lock onto me. Lily was at the front, speaking with our professor.

When she saw me, tears instantly welled in her eyes.

“Clara,” she cried, her voice breaking dramatically, “if you wanted the gold medal in the competition, you just had to ask! I would have gladly given it to you.”

She wrung her hands. “I know you’re jealous that I had the life that was meant to be yours, that I got all the opportunities… but I couldn’t control that!”

“I’m willing to give you everything back, I swear! But why would you resort to something so dishonest? Why would you steal my work?”

Just as she’d planned, the gazes of my classmates turned from curious to contemptuous. Ever since my first day, Lily had been carefully crafting a narrative, painting me as an interloper and herself as the kind, tragic victim.

And I had to admit, her plan was working.

The professor turned his laptop screen toward me, displaying the winners' list. My name was at the top, in first place.

I hadn’t even entered the competition.

He addressed me with a sneer. “Clara, would you care to explain why your name is on the entry that Lily submitted?”

I shrugged, my hands open in a gesture of honesty. “She’s the one who submitted it. How would I know?”

He let out a cold, humorless laugh. “Our department has a strict code of conduct. We do not tolerate plagiarism or theft.”

He pulled out his phone and began tapping out a message. “Don’t you worry, Lily. I’m contacting the dean and the competition judges right now. We will make this right.”

Hearing this, the students started whispering amongst themselves.

“Is he getting her expelled?”

“Figures. Someone from the sticks wouldn’t know any better. Cheating in a national sketch competition? She’s got some nerve.”

“And stealing from Lily, of all people. Doesn’t she know Lily is the best in our program?”

Someone else snorted. “What would she know? She only got in because her parents pulled some strings. Does she even know how to draw?”

“The Sterlings are a family of artists, but this Clara can’t draw, and she doesn’t look anything like them.”

“Maybe they got it wrong. Maybe she’s not their long-lost daughter after all.”

Not their daughter?

And who told them I couldn’t draw?

I found the whole situation amusing and didn’t bother to correct them.

But at that last comment, Lily’s head snapped toward me, her eyes gleaming as if she’d just discovered a hidden treasure. I saw her discreetly pull out her phone and fire off several messages.