Amara's POV
I sat in Principal Kaelen Emerson's office at Merida Academy, watching him scurry to the water cooler like a nervous mouse. His hands trembled as he poured lukewarm water, offering it with a smile that looked more like a grimace.
"So, Ms. Dalton, what brings you back to school?" His attempt at casual conversation fell flat, voice cracking with tension.
I caught the nervous tremor and couldn't help but smirk. "Relax, I'm not here to cause trouble."
My reassurance only seemed to make him sweat more. Poor guy looked ready to bolt.
Most people had zero clue who I was, but Kaelen? He'd seen too much.
Two summers ago, he'd witnessed me at some research institute overseas—sitting in a guest professor's chair, surrounded by armed security in full tactical gear.
During a heated conference, some arrogant researcher had torn into me with vicious words.
I'd sat perfectly still, stone-faced, while security hauled him away.
That night, Kaelen had stumbled across something in an alley that probably gave him nightmares. The same researcher, broken and bloody, begging on his knees while my combat boot pressed against his skull.
When I'd turned and met Kaelen's horrified stare, he'd realized I'd known he was watching the entire time.
He'd fled back to his hotel and caught the first flight home.
Nso here I was, wearing a Merida Academy uniform like any other student.
I let out a slow breath, checking my phone. "Principal Emerson, I'm local. Just want to finish school."
His face went pale. "You took leave before, and the school..."
"Just stick me in any class. I'm not picky."
"Of course, of course." He nodded frantically. "Your old class work?"
Two years ago, I'd started freshman year, then disappeared after a few days. Technically, I should be a senior now.
"Fine by me. I'll get out of your hair." I stood and headed for the door.
My phone showed a Facebook friend request from Dominic, complete with his cocky message: [Don't play hard to get. I'm on Facebook, you're on Facebook—what are the odds? You're totally into me!]
I rolled my eyes, fingers hovering over the ignore button. But his audacity was almost impressive.
I typed back: [You think you're some kind of comedian?]
His response came instantly: [Nah, just trying to get your attention.]
Dark memories surfaced, none of them pleasant. I closed the chat and shot a message to Winston: [Pull NX-5 Serum from the market immediately.]
If Dominic was still this arrogant, the toxin wasn't working fast enough.
——
In the senior teachers' lounge, Byron Beaudoin gripped his phone, face twisted with frustration.
"Mr. Emerson, I'm not refusing her," he said through gritted teeth. "But she's been gone two years. Showed up for maybe a week freshman year. How's she supposed to handle senior coursework? Can't we place her with underclassmen?"
Kaelen's voice came through cold and final. "She'll manage."
"Mr. Emerson—"
"No discussion, Byron. Whatever she does, ignore it. Act like she's invisible."
The line went dead. Byron slammed the phone down, practically vibrating with anger.
The other teachers exchanged uncomfortable looks.
"Mr. Beaudoin," one offered, "I heard she's the adopted daughter of Medvantage Global's CEO. Rich family, connections. Probably skipping college entrance exams for some overseas Ivy League. Won't hurt your class rankings."
Sure, Byron thought bitterly. But rich kids who skip exams grow up in elite international schools. They don't end up in places like this.
He snorted with disdain. "Adopted daughter? The CEO has his own kids. Why pick up some random girl? Sounds like—"
Three sharp knocks cut him off. Every head turned toward the open door.
Amara's POV
I stood in the doorway, taking in the suddenly silent room. The temperature seemed to drop as every teacher stared at me.
Acting like I hadn't overheard their gossip, I kept my voice level. "Principal Emerson said to see Mr. Beaudoin about this semester's textbooks."
Byron maintained his composure despite his obvious irritation. At least he was professional enough not to explode in front of colleagues.
"Wait here." He grabbed a stack of textbooks from under his desk but kept them pinned under his hand instead of handing them over.
"I know about you," he said, voice dripping contempt. "Ditched school for two years with some lame excuse. Do whatever you want, but if you disrupt my class or bring down other students, don't expect mercy. Have some self-respect."
I raised an eyebrow, genuinely puzzled. "Mr. Beaudoin, did I offend you somehow?"
"Just setting expectations."
A dangerous smile curved my lips. "Gamblers always have such short tempers, don't they?"
His face went white as paper. "What did you say?"
While the other teachers looked confused, I leaned closer, voice dropping to a razor-sharp whisper. "A million in gambling debt, Mr. Beaudoin, and you lecture me about self-respect?"
His eyes darted around the room before snapping back to mine. "Outside. Nso."
I snatched the textbooks with one hand and followed him into the hallway.
Leaning against the wall, I fixed him with a mocking stare. "Mr. Beaudoin, I want your resignation within three days. If you need motivation, I know people who can provide it."
His hands shook uncontrollably. "You... stop talking nonsense! Gambling? What are you—"
"Not true?" I cut him off, voice sharp enough to slice steel. "Mr. Beaudoin, if you don't want your secrets exposed, maybe don't make enemies. I didn't bother with you before, but that doesn't mean you get to keep pushing me around."