Part 3Trading Fates: A Journey to Rewrite Destiny

“You’re the one my mom brought in as a glorified maid?”

Spencer Whitlock’s disdain was evident from the second he laid eyes on me.

His words, as rude as his expression, were as shallow as his personality.

It was clear Ivy hadn’t had it easy under him in the last life.

But that was her choice, not mine.

His group of cronies erupted in laughter at his insult and began circling me.

“Wow, someone really sent their kid here to be a servant?”

“Hey Spencer, is this your childhood bride?”

“She’s not bad looking. Why don’t you keep her around?”

Their taunts didn’t faze me. I met Spencer’s gaze calmly, which seemed to irritate him even more.

“Hey! What are you staring at, you brat?”

“At an idiot,” I replied flatly.

Before I knew it, I was gripping the finger he had pointed at me, ready to snap it.

He yelped, his face contorted in pain, while his entourage froze in disbelief.

“Even without your family’s connections, I’d still be here on my own merit. So drop the superiority complex—it makes you look ridiculous.”

With that, I turned on my heel and walked toward the principal’s office.

Unbeknownst to the Whitlocks, I had been accepted into Oakridge Academy on their prestigious scholarship program. They had bypassed proper admissions channels for me, but I had every intention of claiming what was mine.

The principal greeted me warmly, even escorting me personally to Ms. Vanessa Harper, my homeroom teacher.

“She’s one of our star students,” he explained with a smile. “Please see to it that she’s given every opportunity to thrive.”

Ms. Harper nodded, seating me next to another scholarship student, Skye Langston.

Skye was a quiet, frail-looking girl who seemed vaguely familiar, though I couldn’t place her.

Regardless, I was determined to carve out a different path this time.

Unfortunately, Spencer wasn’t going to make it easy.

He pulled one juvenile prank after another.

Dead bugs in my locker.

Ruined lunches.

Random spills of ink or water.

But the last straw came when he dumped a bucket of dirty water over my desk.

Grabbing a mop, I marched over and shoved it in his face.

The shocked look on his smug features was almost worth it.

“Violet Sullivan! Have you lost your mind?” he bellowed.

I shoved the mop further, cutting off his rant.

“Spencer Whitlock, push me one more time, and next time, it won’t just be a mop.”

The class went silent as he fled to the restroom.

Meanwhile, I calmly cleaned my desk and returned to my seat.

Skye looked at me with wide-eyed admiration.

That’s when Ms. Harper entered, motioning for me to follow her out.