Chapter 4

At an elite school like this, there were always unpleasant surprises.

As expected, right after school, a bunch of Sophie's lackeys cornered me, demanding I had to clean every single bathroom in the school before I could go home.

The entire campus had 20 bathrooms.

I knew that was absurd, so I kept my temper and said calmly, "That's the janitor's job, not mine."

Emily wouldn't let it go. "No. You don't leave until you clean them. That's your punishment for disrespecting Sophie."

I felt sick to my stomach. How had I never realized she was this fake?

I tried to walk past them, but Emily grabbed my arm and shoved me. "You're not going anywhere today unless you clean them."

I seized the moment, lunged forward, and kicked her hard in her stomach.

"Ah—!" Her scream tore through the air, raw with pain.

My kick landed flawlessly—even Sophie, standing there all high and mighty with that smug smile, just watching the show, was left completely stunned.

Inside, I was totally hyping myself up. "Charlotte, that was cool."

On the surface, I stayed calm. I dusted off my hands, slung my backpack over my shoulder, and said coldly, "I might not be a Grant anymore, but I sure as hell didn't give up everything I've learned."

As a Grant daughter, I'd started training to throw a punch since I was seven. Taking down people like them was child's play.

*****

Every single day this semester was a total showdown—outsmarting, outplaying, and never letting my guard down around Sophie and her crew.

When I finally finished my last exam, I went home and lazed around for a few days, enjoying the peace. Then my adoptive parents showed up at the door, arms loaded with expensive gift bags.

My adoptive father, Richard Grant, glanced around the cramped apartment and frowned with disdain. Getting straight to the point, he said to my parents, "We want to take Charlotte back. We raised her for years. One more daughter isn't a burden to us."

Helen, dabbing at imaginary dust with a tissue, chimed in, "Yeah, we've had Charlotte for over a decade. She's much closer to us, and I can't bear to let her go. We can give her so much more than you ever could. There's nothing you can do for her."

My honest parents were too tongue-tied to fight back, but Lucas was fuming. "No way! She's my sister, and we can provide for her."

Richard sneered, "Provide for her? Do you even realize she used to sleep under blankets that cost 30 thousand bucks each, wore house slippers worth ten grand a pair, and had chefs flying in ingredients from all over the world just to make her breakfast every morning?"

With every word he said, my parents' and Lucas' faces turned even paler.

I stood up, forcing my anger down, and spoke in a low, steady voice. "Mr. Grant, thank you for your concern. But I'm a Sinclair now. I'm no longer part of the Grant family. So, you really don't need to worry about me. Please leave."

Richard was furious at my ingratitude.

Helen looked at me as if she'd been deeply wounded. She said, "Charlotte, how can you be so cold and heartless? Richard and I spoiled you. We always gave you the best—everything came to you first—"

I cut her off, saying, "Yes. You did spoil me—but only when I was outstanding. The moment I slipped up even a little, you punished me. You made me stand outside the door overnight on an empty stomach."

They didn't love me for who I was. They loved the me who grew up exactly how they wanted. They loved the me who brought them pride.

Richard threw out one last line—"You'll regret this"—and slammed the door behind him.

Only I knew the reason they wanted to take me back into their family.