Chapter20
Kayla Juarez stood up, full of righteous anger as she pointed a finger at Dora. “She was just worried about you. Your family’s bankrupt–Linda was just trying to help. Did you really have to gang up on her like that?”
The room collectively gave her a look. No one said anything, but everyone knew what Kayla was really up to.
She looked angry–but inside, she was thrilled.
After all, she’d been living in Dora’s shadow for years. Now that the mighty Acosta family had collapsed, Kayla finally had the upper hand. Time to turn the tables, play the noble friend, and pretend like she had the moral high ground.
And if she could cozy up to Linda–the supposedly beloved “true heiress” of the Hendrix family–well, that was a bonus. Two birds. One smug little
stone.
Linda looked up in surprise, wiped her tears, and gave Kayla a grateful, misty–eyed glance.
Kayla offered her a soft, sympathetic smile, looking for all the world like she truly cared.
Then came a knock on the classroom door.
Everyone turned.
Standing in the doorway was Byron, holding a massive framed canvas in one hand, a lazy smile tugging at his lips. “Well, this looks fun.”
Kayla froze mid–posture, clearly caught off guard–and more than a little embarrassed.
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Chapter 70
Byron didn’t even glance her way. He walked right past her like she didn’t exist and headed straight for Dora.
“Go ahead, don’t stop on my account,” he said with an easy drawl. “I’m just here to deliver something for Dora.”
He said it casually, but Kayla didn’t dare say another word.
Sure, the rest of them were future heirs and heiresses–but this guy? He was already someone who could sit across from their parents and talk
business.
Linda couldn’t take her eyes off him.
Byron wore a plain white T–shirt and faded jeans, nothing flashy. But he had that kind of effortless presence–clean, cool, untouchable.
His skin was fair, his features sharp and elegant, and he stood just shy of six foot three. On his wrist was a strand of dark red beads, polished and gleaming
As he passed her, Linda caught the faint scent of citrus. Her heart skipped a beat.
Back at Yredo Middle School, she used to flaunt Keith’s looks as her personal flex–people would swoon over him, and she’d bask in the envy. But standing here now, looking at Byron–Keith didn’t even come close.
‘What a shame–dressed that plainly, he probably isn’t more than an errand boy,‘ she thought.
What Linda didn’t realize was that Byron’s casually worn, faded jeans alone cost five figures. As for the rest of his outfit–especially that bead
bracelet on his wrist–it was worth as much as a villa in Riverside.
“Damn, what’s so important that Byron had to deliver it himself?” Derrick joked.
Chapter 20
Bes Nigating
Byron didn’t even blink, his gaze fixed on Dora with open affection. “I’m basically her exclusive delivery guy. Even if it’s just a leaf, I’d still bring it to her by hand.”
The whole class burst into laughter and teasing, but neither Byron nor Dora looked the slightest bit embarrassed. They carried it with a kind of quiet confidence.
Everyone knew what was going on between them. Childhood friends, thick as thieves, with feelings that were obvious to anyone paying attention. They hadn’t made it official, sure–but only because of the school’s no–dating policy and their mutual focus on future careers.
“Here’s your painting.” Byron placed the framed canvas gently on Dora’s desk.
Instantly, curious classmates gathered around to get a closer look–and gasped.
They’d seen the digital photo of her submission on the event website and thought the color scheme was bold and playful. But seeing it in person? The sheer size, the vibrancy of the colors–it hit completely differently.
“Dora’s taste never misses. This might not be super technical, but the color palette? Super creative. I’m calling it now–this is the one I’m bidding
on.”
“If you can even get it,” someone chimed in. “Everyone knows Dora’s work gets snatched up fast.”
“Dora’s killing it,” Derrick said, eyes glued to his phone, scrolling through the live vote count. “She’s in first place, with over 3,000 votes more than second. Looks like the crown’s yours again this year.”
Dora said nothing, just smiled slightly–completely unfazed, like she’d known all along.
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Linda glanced over at the painting. The moment she saw the smudgy little handprints on it, she instantly recognized it.
It was painted by Dewey,
“Dora, this is from Dewey, isn’t it? Just a bunch of random strokes from a
kid. Submitting this to the competition–it’s kind of disrespectful to the other contestants, don’t you think?”
“Wow, seriously?” Derrick shot her a look. “This is the top–ranked entry right now. So what–you’re saying a kid’s random doodles are better than the rest of our carefully crafted work?”
