Rising from Ashes: Reborn 17

Chapter 4: Whispers from London's Shadows

Mayella POV:

I felt the gentle tug of the car halting to a stop. Moments later, the door was held open, and the sun's rays poured in.

"Miss, we've arrived," announced Uncle Neri, Westwood's loyal driver for over a decade.

I adjusted my backpack and stepped out, flashing a grateful smile.

"Thanks, Uncle Neri. Always a charm driving me to school. See you later!"

Uncle Neri, eyebrows raised, watched me stride towards the school. For all the years he'd been chauffeuring me around, today was a first; a 'thank you' from me. He scratched his head in puzzlement. I used to be all airs and graces – a true Westwood heiress. Now, the change in my demeanor had him second-guessing everything he knew.

Once inside the school, the familiar hum of chit-chat greeted me. But today's hot topic was a name, a shadow from London.

"Hey, did you hear? For Wardell's 20th anniversary, they've roped in someone big! Wiktor's the name!" chirped Leelu, her voice edged with excitement.

Xavia, ever the skeptic, quirked an eyebrow.

"Wiktor? Sounds fancy. Why the hype?"

Leelu leaned in, lowering her voice for effect.

"Legend has it he was a transfer here a while back. Just for a few months. But now? He's big news in London."

I listened, intrigued, while pretending to search for a book in my bag. London was always producing new prodigies, but Wiktor? That was new.

Someone from the back piped up.

"Never heard of him. What did he do? Rob the Queen's jewels or something?"

Laughter echoed, but Leelu waved them off.

"Sod off! He's legit. No idea what he's done, but if the school's pegging him as the main attraction, he's gotta be big."

I zipped up my bag, reflecting on the name. Wiktor from London. I had to admit, my curiosity was piqued. I resolved to do some digging later. But for now, I had lessons to tackle and scores to settle, especially with Arabella. The game was just getting started, and I was all in.

The hum of spirited conversations filled the classroom, creating an undercurrent of energy typical of Wardell School, a hub for the future elite. Among those eager voices, Leelu's stood out, always in search of a scoop or some tidbit to fuel her endless curiosity.

"Mayella," she began, leaning closer as if preparing to share a secret, her hazel eyes meeting mine, "Given Eternity's vast connections and global reputation, have you, by any chance, heard of this enigmatic figure, Wiktor?"

I could feel the weight of my past pressing on my chest, making it slightly hard to breathe. Holding my pen a little too firmly, I responded, the words measured and deliberate,

"Leelu, despite all of Eternity's vast dealings, I haven't come across him."

And that was the truth. Eternity, despite its influence, had its limitations. The ghost of Maximilian seemed to haunt the corners of my mind, reminding me of old wounds and betrayals. Unity was a name intertwined with my past life's misery. How could Maximilian have become so emboldened without their shadow looming behind him? I quickly banished the thought, not wanting it to darken my current moment.

Before I could dive deeper into my thoughts, a summons from Mr. Zephyr, our homeroom teacher, pulled me back to reality. Stepping into his spacious, book-lined office, I found Arabella waiting, her face an unreadable mask, eyes glinting with that ever-present ambition.

"Mayella," Mr. Zephyr's voice held its usual blend of authority and faint impatience, "The 20th anniversary of Wardell School is around the corner. Given that Westwood has been one of our prime benefactors, especially with the library contributions, we've decided to involve you and Arabella in the event's coordination. Your primary responsibility? Facilitating interactions with our distinguished guest."

Not waiting for Mr. Zephyr to confirm, Arabella jumped in,

"Is this about Wiktor?"

Mr. Zephyr's nod confirmed her guess.

"Yes. His brief time at Wardell and his subsequent ascent into London's elite circles make him a valuable connection. If Wardwell can build a rapport with him, it might open doors in London's business labyrinth."

Taking a deep breath, I weighed my words,

"Mr. Zephyr, considering the impending exams, I genuinely believe someone else might be better suited for this. I need every moment I can get for my studies."

His eyes narrowed, clearly not pleased.

"Mayella, your recent attendance record and commitment leave much to be desired. Now, when presented with a task of significance, you recoil?"

I bit the inside of my cheek,

"I fear any missteps on my part could jeopardize the school's standing, especially with someone of Wiktor's stature."

Without missing a beat, Arabella jumped in, her voice dripping with feigned concern,

"Mr. Zephyr, Mayella has a point. Her... unique approach might not be ideal here. However, Maximilian, with his academic brilliance and charm, might be perfect."

My lips curled slightly. Arabella's infatuation with Maximilian was no secret, and she missed no chance to sing his praises or push him to the forefront.

Gathering my thoughts, I decided to steer the conversation, "Mr. Zephyr, while Maximilian does possess commendable traits, his ties to Vanderlin Holdings might introduce unnecessary complexities."

For a moment, the room seemed to grow colder. Arabella's face paled, her usually poised demeanor faltering ever so slightly. It seemed the board had been set, and the game was in play.

The weight of the room pressed against me, a stark reminder of the intricate dance of past regrets and present realities. With a quick, silent nod to Mr. Zephyr, I slipped out of the office, seeking refuge in the calming embrace of the outside world.

The courtyard of Wardell School was a sanctuary to me. The cobblestone paths, the meticulously groomed shrubs, and the ancient oak tree that had borne witness to countless secrets over its long life. Today, it was witnessing mine.

Leaning against the oak's gnarled trunk, I let out a long, tremulous breath. The crisp air was rejuvenating, acting as a soothing balm to my agitated thoughts. The distant hum of students' laughter and the gentle rustling of the leaves above created a cocoon of tranquility.

Why had I been so blind in my past life? How did I miss the snake in the grass that was Arabella or Maximilian's cloaked intentions? And now, Unity was added to the mix, a variable I had been ignorant of in my previous existence.

I pulled out my phone, the screen illuminating with possibilities. Typing swiftly, I searched for 'Wiktor of Unity'. My eyes darted from one link to another, absorbing the vast digital tapestry of information on him. Unity was not merely a company; it was a behemoth, leaving its indelible mark in various industries across the globe. The sheer scale of its operations was staggering.

Wiktor's picture popped up - a sharp-featured man with piercing eyes that seemed to hold an ocean of secrets. Despite its reach and power, Unity's core remained elusive, shrouded in layers of corporate speak and PR gloss.

My past self would have perhaps scrolled past, dismissing it as irrelevant. But now, everything mattered. Every nuance, every connection, every piece of the puzzle. And Wiktor was undoubtedly a significant piece.

I was lost in this labyrinth of thoughts when a soft chime rang out, signaling the end of the break. The classroom beckoned, and so did the myriad challenges of my revamped life.

I tucked away my phone and straightened my back. As I made my way back, each step was surer than before. In my heart, I made a silent vow. This life would not be a replay of my past regrets. Armed with the knowledge of my mistakes and the determination to chart a new course, I re-entered the classroom, the door closing softly behind me, sealing in my renewed resolve.