Reborn at Eighteen The Billionaire's Second Chance novel Chapter 144

Tristan’s laugh was soft and condescending. “Effort? Miss Vance, do

you expect us to believe that mere effort could produce a fifteen-

point jump in performance? That’s not how statistics work.”

Victoria leaned forward, her voice dripping with false concern. “And

we all know you’ve been busy with other things lately. I saw posts

about you selling art at Brooklyn Flea. People said you were making

over a thousand dollars a day. Who knows where you got the money

to buy exam answers?”

The accusation was so absurd I almost laughed. “You think I bought

answers with money I earned selling my own art?”

“The source of funding is irrelevant,” Ms. Whitmore interjected, her

tone businesslike. “Miss Vance, we have reason to believe that

portions of this exam were compromised. Your scores in Calculus, Art

History, English Literature, and Physics all exceeded ninety–five

percent. The probability of this occurring naturally, given your historical performance, is extremely low.”

Dr. Pemberton cleared his throat. ‘According to St. Valerius Academy’s honor code, we will be invalidating your exam scores and placing a notation of major academic dishonesty in your permanent file. This will impact your college applications.”

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Chapter 144

Tristan turned from where he’d been standing by the window, his

expression arranging itself into something that might have been pity if you didn’t know him well enough to recognize the cruelty

underneath.

“Of course,” he said softly, “if you admit to the misconduct now, we can consider a lighter punishment. After all…” He let the pause

stretch, his eyes traveling over my school uniform with its slightly

frayed cuffs and the scuff marks on my shoes that no amount of

polish could hide. “You’ve had a difficult time lately. We understand

that circumstances can drive people to desperate measures.”

The condescension in his voice–the implication that my poverty and

precarious position somehow explained criminal behavior–made

rage flare hot in my chest. But I forced it down, forced myself to think

clearly.

Several teachers were watching me with expressions of pity mixed

with disapproval, as if they’d already convicted me in their minds.

Mrs. Caldwell, my English teacher, stepped forward,

“Miss Vance, if you confess now, we can show leniency. St. Valerius

values honor, but we also believe in giving students the opportunity

to learn from their mistakes.”

I looked around the room at their expectant faces–Tristan’s cold

satisfaction, Victoria’s barely concealed glee, the teachers‘

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patronizing concern, Dr. Pemberton’s stern disappointment. They’d

already decided I was guilty. This wasn’t an investigation; it was a

sentencing.

Fine. If they wanted proof, I’d give them proof.

“Okay,” I said, my voice coming out calmer than I felt. “You want to

know if I earned these scores legitimately? Give me a test. Right now.

Same difficulty level as the midterm. If I can complete it in front of

you, that proves I didn’t cheat.”

The room went silent. Tristan’s eyebrows rose fractionally–the only

sign of surprise he allowed himself.

“Interesting,” he murmured. “You’re quite bold, Miss Vance. I’ll give

you that.”

He turned to Dr. Pemberton. “I propose we give Miss Vance an

opportunity to demonstrate her supposed abilities. Provide her with a

sample exam from Phillips Exeter Academy–one of the most rigorous

preparatory schools in the country. If she can complete the final

calculus problem within the allotted time, we’ll accept that she didn’t

cheat.”

Victoria shot to her feet. “That’s not fair! How do we know she hasn’t

prepared for this specific test?”

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