Reborn, She's Back for Revenge novel Chapter 33

Chapter 33

The moment Kerrie stepped away, Hallie’s sugar–spun smile turned icy.

“Für Elise is technically beginner–friendly,” she said, flipping her hair over one shoulder, “but the dynamics are brutal. Maybe just memorize the first page for now?”

Edith didn’t bother looking up. “Done.”

Hallie snorted. ‘No way. She only started yesterday. Before she could protest, Edith’s hands crashed onto the keys–launching straight into the presto agitato section.

A few flubbed notes scattered like loose change, but Edith powered through–until she hit the second crescendo. She paused, not from memory failure, but a deliberate hesitation.

Hallie’s lips curled. “Honey, simplify the left hand. Single notes. You’re obviously overwhelmed.”

Edith’s fingers hovered. “Single notes? You’re sure?”

“Please.” Hallie rolled her eyes. “I’ve had my ARCT since middle school. I’ve played this eighty times. Just copy me–you’ll sound perfect.”

Edith complied. The passage emerged polished, sterile, and utterly soulless.

Hallie rose, satisfied. “Keep grinding. I’ve got homework to do.” She strutted out.

A moment later, Kerrie stepped back over. “Hallie’s chops are insane. How’s the coaching?”

Edith played the butchered version again–exactly as Hallie had shown her.

Kerrie’s brows pinched. “Who taught you to castrate the left hand? The angst is the whole point! And your fingering’s wrong–here.”

Edith blinked, doe–eyed. “Hallie said most people won’t notice. She said nobody cares as long as it sounds clean.”

Kerrie’s voice chilled. “We play for Beethoven, for ourselves, and for anyone who’s ever had a heartbeat. You don’t hack your way to greatness.” She stabbed the sheet music. “Do it right. I know you can.”

As Edith restarted, Kerrie watched the doorway Hallie had exited. A small, troubling thought took root. ‘Did Hallie start cutting corners early–and is that why her music never bleeds?‘

Lunch period slipped away as Edith lost herself in the piano’s melody–a rare moment of peace in years. The afternoon blurred into practice exams and calculus problems, the satisfying grind of academic hustle.

W

.

www.

“Edith? Got a sec?” A voice cut through the chatter of Class One. She glanced up to find Kelvin Murphy leaning against the doorframe with a spiral–bound notebook.

The classroom erupted.

“Since when does Kelvin leave the honors wing?”

“Dude looks like he’s about to pull a ‘Thomas

elby‘ and defend Hallie’s honor.”

“Nah, Kelvin’s too laid–back for drama.”

T

“Bet you twenty bucks he’s here to call

Kelvin tugged at the hem of his T–shirt. “Library’s empty till study hall. I compiled last semester’s killer calc problems-figured I’d show

you the shortcuts.”

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System: [New mission: A true heiress needs devoted admirers. Accept the suitor’s attention.]

Edith hesitated. “Appreciate it, but I’ve got family stuff tonight.” She plucked the notebook from his hands. “I’ll grind through these later. Thanks, Kelvin.”

Edith nearly facepalmed. ‘Seriously?‘ She’d just complained about her A–cup. Now her bra felt like a medieval torture device.

Kelvin watched from the landing as her figure disappeared into the crowd. ‘Any other girl would’ve canceled plans for a tutoring session with me. But Edith? She couldn’t care less. A slow smile spread across his face. ‘Interesting.‘

[Ding! Sincere Admiration Detected. Cup Size: +1]

Edith staggered near the bus stop, bracing against a streetlight. What she wanted were rewards like Super Hearing or Super Vision, not something like this. Now she could barely breathe.

Ditching the packed rush–hour bus, she sprinted to the mall across from Sunspire High, ducked into a Hollister, and upgraded her bra stash.

Zachary’s middle school was only fifteen minutes away–in theory. With gridlocked traffic, Edith tightened her ponytail, adjusted the new weight on her chest, and started to run.

She popped in her AirPods, queued up her Engloria language drills, and took off at a steady pace. By the time the robotic voice finished quizzing her on subjunctive tenses, she was already scanning the middle school’s wrought–iron gates.

System: [3–mile run completed. Reward: Basic Marathoner Skill.]

Edith rolled her eyes. This “Heiress System” had a weird definition of aristocratic refinement. ‘Since when do trust–fund babies need endurance stats?‘

Flashing her ID at security, she beelined for the faculty office. She’d texted Zachary’s homeroom teacher earlier to arrange this meeting about his academic recalibration.

The teacher, early thirties, dark circles suggesting years of service in the education trenches, looked up like Edith was a miracle worker. “Your brother’s transcript reads like a disaster movie sequel. At this rate, he won’t even qualify for trade school.”

She tapped against Zachary’s file. “I’ve emailed your dad and stepmom six times. Either they ghost me or reply, ‘We’ll circle back. You’re just his sister–he may not listen–but I’m out of plays.”

Edith’s smile didn’t waver. “Give me the battle plan. I’ll whip him into shape.”

The teacher handed over a color–coded study schedule. “I’ve got review books from sixth and seventh grade. They’re full of notes and tips. If he starts now-” She gestured to a student aide. “Go fetch Zachary.”

The aide jogged back thirty seconds later, face pale. “Uh… Zachary kinda… ghosted after third period?”

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