When The Family Reads The Fake Heiress Mind novel Chapter 62

Chapter 62 Asher’s Revenge

Jean stared down at the open workbook on her desk, her face calm, her eyes steady.

Finished

Beside her. Asher mirrored her posture. His head was lowered, gaze focused intently on the study guide in front of him, completely detached from the noise around them.

They were, perhaps, the only two in the classroom entirely uninterested in the excitement surrounding Lacey.

Still, it was impossible not to overhear the chatter.

Jean had no particular opinion about Lacey getting invited onto Taylor’s new show. If anything, she just thought-

That Mr. Taylor had terrible taste.

Lacey’s Hope Cup performance had been average at best. And he picked her?

[Talk about a questionable judgment call.

Sure, even the best in the industry made mistakes.

Jean could forgive that.

Just then, the temporary homeroom teacher arrived, her heels clicking briskly across the tile as she entered.

Ever since their original teacher Ms. Wendy had been reassigned, the school still hadn’t found a permanent replacement. Each class had been cycling through other teachers on rotation.

Not that Stellarford lacked staff–but after the Wendy fiasco, no one really wanted to step into the hot seat.

Jean glanced up at the woman now standing at the front of the room. She wore a polite smile, trying to soften her late

entrance.

“Sorry, everyone. There was a huge traffic jam this morning–I got held up.” She smiled sheepishly, her tone gentle.

“Excuse me, Ms. Teacher..

Asher’s cool voice rang out suddenly as he raised his hand.

His tone was cold and flat, like water straight from the fridge–clear and sharp–edged.

The teacher blinked, caught off guard. “Yes, Asher?”

Heads swiveled toward him, everyone caught by surprise.

Even Jean turned, frowning slightly. She couldn’t remember the last time Asher willingly interacted with a teacher–let alone raised his hand in class.

Asher met the teacher’s gaze, his voice unwavering

“If I remember correctly, you established a class rule against talking during lessons.”

The teacher nodded cautiously. “Yes, that’s correct.

Asher’s features remained calm, his tone as frosty as ever. “Then I’d like to fonnally report a few classmates for loudly disrupting class just now.”

The room froze

Asher calmly listed their names–each one a familiar voice from earlier.

4:26 PM

chap🙂

“What the hell is wrong with you, whert You anuching now?

“Dude, seriously? The leader wasn

the room! We were just excited about Taylor visiting! Chill our?‘

“Asher, I didn’t take you for 1 ft. Gintal”

The teacher looked visibly uncontrolle

It was true. Asher was one of the top studeems a Sellarior, admitted for his exceptional academic performance–but the people he just ratted out? All rich kids from poveril familie…

Tattling on them could stir a lot of trouble.

Was Asher fearless? Or just stupid?

Here at Stellarford, the faculty had to tread carefully he weren’t just students–they were heirs. Future CEOs. The children of old money.

So the school had created “guidelines,” soft rules that looked official but were mostly for show–meant to keep a balance between order and appeasement.

The punishment for rule violations? Usually mild. Write a referation Wybe a formal apology. Nothing more.

Asher wasn’t wrong but he was definitely making waves.

“Miss.” Acher said calmly, noticing her hesitation. According to your mules, youre supposed to issue a consequence.”

Caught, the teacher hesitated, then sighed.

She couldn’t afford to backpedal now–not without undermining her own autumny.

“You’ve all been warned plenty of times,” she finally said. “The rules are clear. If you brakethem, you’ll need to write a one-

housand–word reflection. Have it on my desk tomorrow.”

The born, whod been joking earlier looked like they’d swallowed sour lemons.

Ther tumed toward Asher with expressions dark enough to curdle milk. Their fists denied Hat weren’t in the middle of

they might’ve jumped him then and there.

Tea

cancer in Asher again.

and guir, not reacting to the storm he’d just kicked up. His profile was calm and clean–au–llle a statue carved

For the mults the thrown at her?

ad be done ut on purpose, or was it just a coincidence?

Before Jean could ponder in further, a new sound interrupted the tension–a set of unfamiliar footsteps musactie that dont

Then, a man in a black sectum stepped into view. He knocked gently before offering a polite smile.

“Good mo