CHAPTER 18 — Navira's POV
Two days after the dinner, the house still feels like someone dropped a bomb made of shame and academic superiority right in the middle of the dining room table.
And guess who lit the fuse?
Me.
Honestly, the moment I showed my mock exam sheet — Rank 1, in bold letters — the entire table went so silent I could hear Agnes's pride cracking like cheap glass.
Victor nearly dropped his wine.
Vivienne almost cried.
Alden and Alastair stared at me like I'd grown a second head.
Agnes?
She looked like she wanted to bury herself under the carpet and become one with the floor.
Tragic.
Today, the tension is still delicious.
I walk into the living room and find the whole family sitting there pretending to exist normally. Except they're not normal anymore — they're cautious.
Around me.
Vivienne: "Good morning, sweetheart."
They've been calling me sweetheart a lot lately.
Probably because they realized the actual "sweetheart" they raised was a parasitic liar with the academic skills of a decorative plant.
Victor lowers his newspaper. "Sleep well?"
I shrug. "Define well."
Alden whizzes.
Alastair avoids eye contact like I might quiz him on algebra.
Everything is perfect.
I sit down on the sofa, feeling Agnes's eyes burning holes into the back of my head. She's sitting opposite me, arms folded, jaw clenched.
She's been like this for two days — alternating between glaring at me and pretending she doesn't care.
Classic loser energy.
Finally she stands.
"Can you move?" she snaps.
I tilt my head. "I'm sitting. Are you asking me to teleport?"
Her nostrils flare. "This is my spot."
Victor raises a brow. "Agnes, we don't assign seating."
She throws him a betrayed look — because clearly the universe is supposed to revolve around her grief.
I smirk. "Aw. Rough week?"
Her glare could've burned oxygen. "You embarrassed me."
"Oh honey," I say softly, "you embarrassed yourself. I'm just the one who turned on the lights."
Alden inhales sharply.
Alastair mutters, "Damn…"
Vivienne sighs. "Girls, please—"
But Agnes isn't done.
She storms toward me, voice sharp. "You think you're better than me because you got one good score?"
"One?" I repeat. "Oh, Agnes. Sweetie. It wasn't luck. It's called intelligence. Try it sometime."
She steps closer, fists clenched.
A predictable tantrum.
I lean back, calm. "If you're going to hit me, at least do it where the cameras don't catch it. I don't want to ruin your life again so soon."
Her face drains of color.
Oh, right.
She forgot I knew about the cameras.
Victor clears his throat loudly. "Agnes. Sit."
She sits. Like a scolded puppy.
This family dynamic is adorable.
I stretch, purposely unbothered. "So. Since we're all awake—"
Vivienne glances nervously at me. "Y-Yes?"
"—what's the plan for the day?"
"We… weren't sure," Victor admits.
They weren't sure because they're scared of putting Agnes and me in the same room again.
Smart.
Agnes scoffs. "Seriously? She gets one high score and suddenly everyone worships her—"
"I don't need worship," I interrupt. "I need access."
Alden blinks. "Access to what?"
"Resources. Connections. Information."
Alastair frowns. "For… what exactly?"
I smile. "Power."
Vivienne looks like she wants to faint.
Victor looks like he's reconsidering every life choice he's ever made.
Agnes opens her mouth—
Probably to complain, whine, or dramatize her existence—
But she never gets the chance.
My phone buzzes.
A school message.
Mock exam rankings posted publicly.
I unlock my screen lazily, knowing exactly what it'll say.
Rank 1 — Navira Aurline
Rank 72 — Agnes Aurline
Agnes's face goes white when she checks hers.
I glance at her.
"Congratulations," I say sweetly. "At least you passed."
Victor chokes on air.
Alden's eyebrows vanish into his hairline.
Alastair snorts so hard he almost falls off the couch.
Agnes lunges to grab my phone — desperate to verify if it's real — but I pull it back with perfect timing.
"No touching," I say calmly. "You break everything you get your hands on."
Her voice cracks. "Shut up."
"You first."
Vivienne jumps in with a shaky, awkward laugh. "Girls! Let's… let's all breathe—"
I stand up, smoothing my hair.
"Relax," I say, voice soft but slicing. "I just want what I deserve."
"And what's that?" Agnes spits.
I look down at her — the girl who stole my place, my family, my identity.
"Everything," I say simply. "Everything you thought you could keep forever."
She flinches.
I turn away, heading toward the stairs.
Before I go, I pause just long enough to twist the knife a little deeper.
"Oh, and Agnes?" I say. "Try not to trip down the stairs again. They're marble. Bad for your face."
Alden's jaw DROPS.
Alastair starts coughing because he's trying not to laugh.
Vivienne gasps.
Victor looks like he aged ten years.
Agnes?
She looks like she might explode.
Which is exactly the way I like it.
I head upstairs, calm, victorious, and already planning my next move.