The Second Life of a Discarded Heiress novel Chapter 33

Monday.

The results of Havencrest Preparatory Academy's monthly exams were out.

The school's announcement board was absolutely swamped—three, four rows deep with students craning for a glimpse.

At Primus Academy, every monthly exam was its own kind of trial by fire. The results didn't just mean bragging rights—they could decide whether a student stayed or went. This time of the month always brought a wild swing of emotion: some kids grinned ear to ear, others could barely hold back tears.

Today, more than a few students were sobbing their hearts out.

Citrine and Amelia shoved their way from the outermost edge right into the crowd.

As soon as they made it through, Citrine looked up—and, as luck would have it, her eyes landed right at the top of the rankings.

Citrine Carmichael. Her name blazed in bold at number one.

Class Rank: 1. Total Score: 748.

Just beneath her was Jeanette, in second place with 720.

Then came Alicia, third, with 718.

Meanwhile, Amelia was busy scanning up the list from the very bottom. After what felt like an eternity, she finally spotted her own name at number 300.

She couldn't contain herself. "Oh my god, Citrine, I made it to 300th! That's a hundred spots higher than last time!"

Then she blurted, "Wait, where are you? I've been searching forever and I can't find your name."

"Right here." Citrine nodded toward the top of the board.

Amelia followed her gaze, and when she saw the name, her eyes went wide as saucers.

She had to double-check—then triple-check—before she believed it.

Suddenly aware of the packed crowd around them, Amelia clapped her hand over her mouth.

"Citrine, let's get out of here," she whispered, grabbing Citrine's arm and pulling her away from the throng.

Citrine let herself be tugged along, a little dazed.

Citrine smiled and said sincerely, "Well, that's because you're just as remarkable."

Something in Amelia's heart seemed to flutter at that. For a moment, she felt on top of the world.

-------------------------------------

That same day, the air inside the Iverson family's mansion was thick with tension.

Jeanette had gone on a rampage, hurling anything not nailed down. Her bedroom looked like a hurricane had hit.

The housekeepers stood trembling at the door, barely daring to breathe. No one wanted to be the next to face the young lady's wrath.

Aline, watching her daughter's red-rimmed eyes, silently cursed Citrine a thousand times over.

Jeanette refused to believe what she'd seen. She kept muttering under her breath, "No way. Citrine's a nobody. How could she possibly come in first?"

She turned to her mother, her voice tight with certainty. "Mom, there's no way. Citrine was always at the bottom of the class. I don't buy that she could leap to first just like that."

Jeanette knew exactly how hard she had to work—burning the midnight oil every night—just to scrape out a narrow lead at the top. Even with all that effort, the gap between her and second place was only ever a handful of points. The competition was relentless; victory never came easy.