BORN A DISAPPOINTMENT REBORN A QUEEN

CHAPTER T

I thought I had mastered my nerves.

I was wrong.

By the time I returned to my dorm after orientation, my confidence had thinned into a fragile thread. I stood before the mirror reciting my speech over and over again, correcting pauses, adjusting tone, perfecting posture.

What if I stumbled?

What if my voice shook?

What if I disappointed myself?

I practiced until my throat felt dry and my legs weak. I did not even notice when darkness faded into soft morning light.

When I finally looked at the clock, it was three in the morning.

The gathering was at eight.

Four hours of sleep. That was all I could afford.

The next thing I knew, loud banging jolted me awake.

“Seraphina!” Anne’s voice pierced through the door. “Do you know what time it is?”

I stumbled out of bed and opened the door, hair messy and eyes barely open.

“What time is it?” I mumbled.

She stared at me in disbelief. “It is 7:14. And you are still sleeping. Miss First Rank Presenter.”

My heart nearly stopped.

I rushed inside, changed quickly, fixed my hair, adjusted my outfit, and by 7:40 we were running toward the hall.

We arrived just in time.

Anne was slightly out of breath. I was used to running. She was not particularly fond of sports.

“Why were you even asleep after sunrise?” she demanded as we walked in.

“I practiced until three,” I admitted. “I was nervous.”

Anne softened. “You will be fine. Just be yourself. You always win when you are yourself.”

I smiled.

If there was one blessing in both my lives, it was Anneliese Whitemore.

The hall was already filled. Board members sat in the front rows. Investors and department heads lined the sides. Students whispered among themselves.

The dean stepped forward and greeted the board, faculty, and students formally.

Then he announced that he would reveal the top-ranked student.

The hall buzzed with speculation.

Anne squeezed my hand once.

I steadied my breathing.

“First place in this year’s entrance examination,” the dean announced clearly, “Seraphina Blackwell.”

The hall erupted in applause.

I stood up calmly and walked toward the podium with measured elegance.

I could feel eyes on me. Some filled with admiration. Some with curiosity. Some with jealousy.

I heard whispers as I passed.

“She must have used connections.”

“With that face, who knows what she did.”

“Do not be ridiculous. She has handled business projects since childhood.”

I ignored them all.

When I reached the podium, I inclined my head respectfully.

“Good morning to the distinguished members of the board, respected faculty, honored investors, and my fellow students.”

My voice did not shake.

“It is both an honor and a responsibility to stand before you today. Sutton Vale College is not merely a school. It is an institution that values merit above status, discipline above privilege, and integrity above influence.”

I allowed my gaze to sweep across the hall.

“I stand here not because of my surname, but because of preparation. Talent may open doors, but discipline keeps them open.”

A few students shifted uncomfortably.

“I believe success is not a straight path. It is a series of choices. To wake up earlier. To read one more page. To attempt one more question. To try again after failure.”

A light laugh escaped me. “Although I will admit, sometimes it also requires three hours of sleep and a very loud best friend.”

The hall chuckled softly.

“I thank the faculty for creating an environment where effort is recognized. I thank my parents for teaching me resilience. And I thank my peers, because competition pushes us beyond our limits.”

I paused.

“We did not come here to rely on our family names. We came here to build our own.”

Applause rose, stronger this time.

I concluded with gratitude and stepped down gracefully.

The noise that followed was louder than before.

Anne looked like she wanted to scream in pride.

My phone buzzed with messages from my parents. I sent them a photo of the podium instead. They had respected the school’s rule and stayed away.

The dean announced a small reception for students and board members to interact informally.

By eight that evening, we were dismissed to our dormitories.

As first rank, I had a private dorm suite. It was spacious, with a small sitting area, kitchenette, bedroom, and study.

Second and third place shared a suite together if they were the same gender. Anne had taken third. The boy who ranked second would share with another male in the closest ranking bracket.

That boy was Dorian Grayson.

The next day, Anne and I checked our schedules.

Only a few classes aligned.

Classes officially began on Monday.

Monday

My first lecture was Calculus.

As I entered, I noticed Odessa Julien seated confidently near the center.

Mrs. Sullivan’s niece.

I felt no fear.

Only mild irritation.

A girl at the front waved at me.

“Seraphina, over here.”

It was Delphine. We had spoken briefly at the gathering.

I took the seat beside her.

“You survived the speech,” she whispered teasingly.

“I did,” I replied.

I felt a gaze on my back.

Dorian Grayson sat two rows behind us.

“Do you know who that is?” Delphine asked.

“I know the Grayson family,” I said thoughtfully. “They are known for their culinary empire.”

“They saved their restaurant chain from bankruptcy a few years ago,” she added.

I did not mention that my family had invested during that period.

Before we could continue, Professor Lloyd entered.

We greeted him respectfully.

The lecture began.

The material was not unfamiliar. I had covered it in the library days ago.

While listening, I mentally solved advanced variations.

I did not realize Odessa was watching me.

Suddenly she raised her hand.

“Sir Lloyd, Seraphina does not seem to be paying attention.”

The class grew quiet.

Professor Lloyd glanced at me. “Miss Blackwell, please focus.”

I gave a small nod.

Then he wrote a problem on the board.

“Let us see who can solve this,” he said.

The question read:

If f(x) equals x to the power of three minus six x squared plus nine x plus one, determine all critical points and classify them using the second derivative test. Then determine the interval where the function is increasing and decreasing.

It was not impossible. But it required careful differentiation and analysis.

Odessa raised her hand immediately.

“I can answer.”

She derived the first derivative correctly but miscalculated the second derivative and concluded that x equals one was a local maximum instead of a point of inflection.

She sat down smiling proudly.

Professor Lloyd shook his head. “Incorrect.”

Silence filled the room.

Even Dorian looked uncertain.

I raised my hand.

Odessa scoffed. “You were not paying attention.”

I replied calmly, “If you were paying attention, why was your answer incomplete?”

A few students coughed to hide laughter.

“May I answer, Professor?” I asked politely.

“You may.”

I stood and walked to the board.

First derivative: three x squared minus twelve x plus nine.

Factoring gave three times x minus one times x minus three.

Critical points at x equals one and x equals three.

Second derivative: six x minus twelve.

Substituting x equals one gave negative six, indicating a local maximum.

Substituting x equals three gave positive six, indicating a local minimum.

“However,” I added, “if we observe the function behavior, x equals one is indeed a maximum, but the curve’s steepness indicates a sharper decline between one and three.”

I sketched the graph briefly and explained the increasing and decreasing intervals clearly.

Professor Lloyd stared at the board, then at me.

“Well done,” he said slowly.

“How did you solve it if you were not fully focused earlier?”

“I studied the topic in advance,” I replied honestly. “I was reviewing variations in the library. I apologize if it seemed otherwise.”

He nodded.

“Class, applaud excellence when you see it.”

The students clapped.

Odessa’s expression tightened painfully.

After class, Professor Lloyd asked me to see him later.

The rest of the day followed a similar pattern.

Questions.

Answers.

Recognition.

By evening, whispers began spreading.

I ignored them.

Until I opened the student forum that night.

My name was trending.

A post titled:

First Rank or First Flirt

My chest tightened.

The anonymous post claimed I was seducing lecturers. That Professor Lloyd favored me. That my beauty was my true talent.

The comments multiplied rapidly.

Some defended me.

Some mocked me.

Some believed it.

I stared at the screen.

So it begins.

In my previous life, I had endured silently.

In this life?

I closed my laptop slowly.

Someone wanted to start a war.

And I had just been given a battlefield.

The next morning, the dean summoned me to his office.

And when I arrived, I was not alone.

Odessa stood there.

So did Professor Lloyd.

And Dorian Grayson.

The door closed behind me.

The game had officially escalated.