THE BILLIONAIRE’S SCHOLARSHIP GIRL

Emily Walking through the big gates of Greenwood Academy felt like stepping into a movie. This was the school for the ultra-rich and powerful, the kind of place I’d only seen in magazines. I walked slowly, taking care with each step. The buildings were huge and beautiful. It had been my biggest dream to study here, but now that I was, it felt strange. I was the only one walking on foot. The parking lot was full of shiny cars and drivers in neat uniforms. But I didn't let that bother me. I remembered just last year, working day and night to even get the form for the scholarship exam. “I'm definitely going to miss my old school and friends,” I whispered to myself. The students here looked like they’d just stepped off a runway. The girls wore skimpy brown skirts, sky-blue shirts, brown blazers, and knee-high white socks. The guys wore sky-blue shirts, brown trousers, and matching blazers. Everyone looked perfect. As I walked down the path, I adjusted my sleeve. I had to admit, the uniform was really comfortable. “Emily!” A man’s voice called my name. He was tall, in his late thirties, with a kind smile and his hands behind his back. He wore a suit with a light green tie that made his round stomach noticeable. He had to be a teacher. “Hello, sir,” I greeted him, letting a warm smile spread across my face. “Emily Eren, welcome to Greenwood Academy. I’m Mr. Smith. I’ll walk you to the administrative block so you can check in,” he said, his smile widening to show a single golden tooth. I smiled back. He turned and led the way, and I walked beside him. “You look intelligent,” he commented. I could hear the smile in his voice. I quickened my pace to keep up. “Oh,” I said, a little out of breath. “We are very happy to have you here, Emily. We’ve never had a student score 99 percent in the history of our school’s scholarship program. You’re the first!” he said, sounding genuinely impressed. I didn't know how to react, so I just gave a small, humble smile. “We’re here,” he announced. A tall, mint-green building stood before us. The words "ADMINISTRATIVE BLOCK" were written in bold letters over the entrance. I followed him inside. It was a cool, quiet office where each staff member sat behind a thick glass wall. Mr. Smith waved to the other staff, and they all exchanged friendly greetings. As we walked down the hall, I admired the beautiful paintings on the walls. They were all lovely, but I fell in love with one with the drawing of a purple rose. It looked almost magical. We finally stopped at an empty desk, which I assumed was his. “Now, Emily, you will fill out this form,” he said, pointing to a stack of papers on his desk. I filled out each one carefully and signed where needed. He then handed me a pile of new textbooks and notes. I shuffled them all into my bag. “Good morning, Mr. Smith,” a bright, feminine voice chimed. It was the kind of voice that made everyone look. A blonde girl stepped forward with a radiant smile that seemed to light up the whole hallway. She looked effortlessly stylish, her uniform fitting her so well it might have been made just for her. Her blazer had tiny red stones on it—probably against the rules, but they looked beautiful. A soft pink bow sat perfectly in her hair, giving her a sweet, charming look. And she was waving. “—Oh,” I realized slowly, “she’s waving at me.” For a moment, I just stared, amazed and a little confused by how put-together she looked so early in the morning. I waved back. “Good morning! How was your summer holiday?” Mr. Smith asked, his eyes shining. “Ugh, let’s not talk about it,” she replied, rolling her eyes playfully. Mr. Smith chuckled. “Hello, newbie. I’m Abby,” she said, holding out her hand. “I’m Emily,” I replied, shaking it. “Oh, great! Now that you’ve met, Abby, can you please take Emily to class?” Mr. Smith asked with a kind smile that was hard to say no to. “Oh, my pleasure!” Abby replied happily. She turned to me. “I’ll show you around. Come with me,” she said softly, smiling. To my surprise, she grabbed my hand as if we’d been friends for years. “Abby, do me a favor and take her straight to class. You’ll both be late for your first period!” Mr. Smith called after us. “I heard you, Mr. Smith!” she replied, though I was pretty sure she hadn’t. Still holding my hand, she led me out of the administrative block. Once outside, she finally let go and turned to me. “Now, where should we go first?” she asked, squinting her eyes as she thought hard. I watched her, amused. “Oh! I think the school museum would be great!” she said, her face lighting up. Grrrrrrrrrr! The school bell rang, breaking the happy moment. “I think we should head to class first. You can show me around later,” I suggested, trying to cheer her up. Her face fell, and I almost felt sorry for her. She took me to the classroom. Every room we passed was neat, with desks and chairs perfectly arranged. The moment I stepped into the classroom, everyone went quiet. I ignored the stares. “You can sit beside me. It’s empty,” Abby said, pointing to the seat. We sat down, and she immediately turned sideways to stare at me. “It’s nice having you here,” she said, her smile not fading. She was still looking at me, clearly wanting to keep talking. “Don’t feel uncomfortable. I know they can be weird sometimes, but I promise, they’re nice.” I wasn’t sure why she was being so friendly, but I smiled back. “Oh, really?” “Yeah. They can be jerks sometimes, but it’s normal, right?” I looked around. Everyone was still staring. Weirdos, I thought. But Abby… she seemed different. She was rich, but her friendliness felt real. “I like your hair. Are they extensions?” she asked, her face full of genuine curiosity. In my dreams, I thought to myself. We could never afford something like that. “No, Abby, it’s natural. My mom—you know—her traits,” I stuttered, feeling that familiar pang of sadness at the mention of my mother. “Oh my,” she said, placing a well-manicured hand on her cheek with a strangely sad look. “You must be one lucky girl.” I just giggled, not sure what to say. The door swung open, and a middle-aged man with sleek glasses perched on the tip of his nose marched in. “Good morning, class!” His voice was loud and clear. “Good morning, Mr. Jones!” the class replied together. He wrote APPLIED SCIENCE on the board. “Welcome back from the break. I hope you still remember what we learned.” He paused, looking around as if waiting for an answer. “Please, open your books to page seven.” I searched through my bag for the textbook. Just then, the room went quiet again. But this silence was different from before. It was heavy, full of tension. I could feel everyone’s attention shift away from me. I looked up. And I saw him. He was tall, like a model. His blazer fit him so perfectly, it looked like it was made just for him. His sleeves were rolled up, showing his strong forearms. His tie was loose around his neck, a dark strip of silk against his white shirt. His hair was dark and looked soft, shining under the lights. He walked with a lazy confidence, his hands in his pockets like he owned the place. I was so surprised, my mind went blank for a second. A cold feeling ran down my spine. He was walking straight toward me, his eyes locked on mine. I didn’t know him, but he clearly knew who I was. I made myself sit still and not look away. He stopped right at my desk. The air around us felt cold. He leaned in, tilting his head, and his eyes—a sharp, startling green—focused on the name badge on my blazer. “Emily Eren,” he said, his voice low and laced with a sarcastic smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “So you’re the reason my name came up at breakfast?” I froze.