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The Genius Heiress: Reclaiming Her Stolen Life Novel Cover

The Genius Heiress: Reclaiming Her Stolen Life

For three years, I was a prisoner in my own body, forced to watch helplessly as a series of strangers steered my life into ruin. Then, the system tried to wipe my consciousness entirely to make room for a new host. The pain was blinding, like a steel spike driven through my skull, but I refused to break. I slammed a mental wall of pure spite against the code, forcing the system to retreat and bargain for its own survival. I woke up in a room littered with the debris of a pathetic party girl, my body smeared with cheap makeup and my life in tatters. My father, the patriarch, looked at me with nothing but cold disdain, ready to cut me off for the scandals I hadn't even committed. The people around me—my father, the school bullies, the arrogant Student Council President—all expected the same hysterical, vapid girl who would crumble at a single word. They had no idea that the real Scarlett was back, and I was holding a scalpel to their secrets. Why did they think they could treat me like a disposable toy? And what would happen when the cold-eyed strategist they underestimated started dismantling their empires piece by piece? I walked into the academy, stared down my tormentors, and made a bet that would either crown me as their master or force me to sign away my entire inheritance forever.
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Chapter 6

Harlow kicked a solid brass trash can as he stormed down the hallway. The metal clanged loudly against the marble floor.

His current date, Lexi Blum, ran up and touched his arm. Harlow violently shoved her away and kept walking.

Scarlett watched the scene through the cafeteria's glass wall. Her face remained entirely passive. She picked up her tray and walked toward the disposal station.

A sudden, sharp pain spiked at the base of her skull. Scarlett stopped. She pressed her hand against the cold wall.

A glowing red countdown timer flashed across her retinas.

"Main task critical," the system's mechanical voice warned. "Failure to establish interaction with Dontae Vance will result in Level One electrical punishment in three minutes."

Scarlett sneered in her mind. Patience, you parasite. She forced the warning screen away and pushed herself off the wall. She kept walking.

She stepped out of the cafeteria doors.

Frank Baxter, a senior Student Council officer, stood in the middle of the hallway. Two large juniors stood behind him. They blocked her path.

Frank tapped the gold-rimmed council badge on his chest. He looked down his nose at her.

"President Vance is waiting for you in the top-floor office," Frank said. His tone was arrogant, like he was delivering a command from a king.

He looked her up and down. "You might want to fix your hair. And try not to cry on his carpet this time."

The hallway traffic slowed down. Students lingered, watching the confrontation. Everyone knew what happened when Dontae Vance summoned someone. They expected Scarlett to run up the stairs like an obedient dog.

Scarlett slowly raised her left arm. She looked at the vintage Patek Philippe watch on her wrist.

She dropped her arm. She looked Frank dead in the eyes.

"I don't have time right now," Scarlett said flatly. "Tell him to wait."

Frank's jaw dropped. The arrogant smirk slid off his face. He stared at her, completely unable to process the words.

Scarlett didn't wait for his brain to catch up. She stepped around him and headed toward the main exit doors.

Frank snapped out of his shock. His face flushed with anger. He reached out and grabbed Scarlett's shoulder to drag her back.

Scarlett shifted her weight. She dropped her shoulder, breaking his grip. In the same fluid motion, she swung the heavy, hardback textbook in her hand backward.

The thick spine of the book smashed directly into the back of Frank's hand.

Frank let out a sharp hiss of pain. He yanked his hand back, cradling his bruised knuckles.

"Are you crazy?" Frank yelled. "You don't reject the President!"

Scarlett stopped. She turned her head slowly. Her eyes were like shards of black ice.

"If Dontae Vance wants to see me," Scarlett said, her voice echoing in the quiet hall, "tell him to roll down here and ask me himself."

She turned around and walked out the heavy oak doors of the academy.

Ten minutes later, Frank pushed open the doors to the top-floor office. He was sweating.

Dontae stood by the floor-to-ceiling window, looking down at the campus.

Frank swallowed hard. He repeated Scarlett's exact words.

The temperature in the office plummeted. Helen Mercer stopped typing and held her breath.

Dontae slowly turned around. There was no anger in his eyes. Instead, his pupils were dilated with a dark, predatory thrill.

He walked over to his desk. He picked up the handwritten report, folded it sharply, and slid it into the inside pocket of his suit jacket.

He cursed under his breath. The corner of his mouth lifted into a dangerous smile. Fine. If the mountain won't come to Muhammad... He was going to hunt her down himself.