Stolen Genius, Reclaimed Fate

Stolen Genius, Reclaimed Fate

Tabbie Platt

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My whole life was focused on one goal: Harvard. I was Sarah Miller, the academic star, future astrophysicist, and that scholarship was my family's only way out of our small New England town. Just days after acing another SAT practice test, my best friend Chloe, with her cheerleader ponytail swinging, handed me a shiny "friendship locket" for good luck. Suddenly, my perfect scores plummeted, while Chloe' s, who usually struggled, inexplicably soared. Then, a chilling conversation overheard outside the library confirmed my worst fears: Chloe and Ethan, my childhood friend and the boy I might have loved, had deliberately used the cursed antique locket from Mr. Abernathy' s shop to swap my academic luck for Chloe' s gain. My actual SAT scores were a disaster, shattering my Harvard dream and my mother's hopes as her health faltered under the stress. Ethan, to shield Chloe from a plagiarism charge, brazenly framed me, leading to my National Honor Society revocation, lost scholarships, and public humiliation as a "cheater." Later, after Ethan rushed off to save Chloe, leaving me besieged by a vengeful clique vandalizing my car, he returned only to plant fabricated evidence that caused my mother to collapse. How could my closest friends, who should have been my anchors, orchestrate such a cruel, calculated betrayal, then watch my life unravel without a flicker of remorse? The injustice burned, transforming my despair into a cold, sharp rage. They believed they had dealt with the 'naive bookworm' and that I would just "be fine." They were profoundly mistaken. My revenge would begin by turning their own vile magic against them.

Introduction

My whole life was focused on one goal: Harvard.

I was Sarah Miller, the academic star, future astrophysicist, and that scholarship was my family's only way out of our small New England town.

Just days after acing another SAT practice test, my best friend Chloe, with her cheerleader ponytail swinging, handed me a shiny "friendship locket" for good luck.

Suddenly, my perfect scores plummeted, while Chloe' s, who usually struggled, inexplicably soared.

Then, a chilling conversation overheard outside the library confirmed my worst fears: Chloe and Ethan, my childhood friend and the boy I might have loved, had deliberately used the cursed antique locket from Mr. Abernathy' s shop to swap my academic luck for Chloe' s gain.

My actual SAT scores were a disaster, shattering my Harvard dream and my mother's hopes as her health faltered under the stress.

Ethan, to shield Chloe from a plagiarism charge, brazenly framed me, leading to my National Honor Society revocation, lost scholarships, and public humiliation as a "cheater."

Later, after Ethan rushed off to save Chloe, leaving me besieged by a vengeful clique vandalizing my car, he returned only to plant fabricated evidence that caused my mother to collapse.

How could my closest friends, who should have been my anchors, orchestrate such a cruel, calculated betrayal, then watch my life unravel without a flicker of remorse?

The injustice burned, transforming my despair into a cold, sharp rage.

They believed they had dealt with the 'naive bookworm' and that I would just "be fine."

They were profoundly mistaken. My revenge would begin by turning their own vile magic against them.

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Three days before my wedding, I held the invitations, a bright future with Chloe Davis unfolding before me. I decided to surprise her at her final dress fitting, full of stupid, happy optimism. But through the boutique window, I saw her with Ethan Miller, her "first love," the broke con artist I'd repeatedly paid off at Chloe's tearful request. Then, hidden in an alley, I heard their conversation: my meticulously planned life was a calculated scam. She called me "pathetic," a "tool," a "walking ATM." She even bragged about how easy I was to manipulate. My five years of pouring everything into her-paying off her loans, buying her a car and her mother a condo, giving Ethan tens of thousands-all of it was a lie designed to extract every penny before she discarded me. The invitations slipped from my numb fingers, scattering on the dirty asphalt as memories flooded back, each sweet moment now tainted with cold, cynical calculation. My heart, once full, was now a charred, worthless spot. The most horrific truth came out when she intentionally crashed our car on the freeway, shattering my leg. She escaped untouched, called Ethan, and left me for dead, only to flaunt her Vegas trip with him on social media, using my credit card, while I fought for my life. I was broken, not just by her betrayal, but by the realization that she hadn' t just hurt me; she had actively despised me, plotting to destroy me and even poisoning my mother to hasten my inheritance. But I wouldn't just be used and discarded. No. This was no longer about a broken heart. This was about my mother. This was about justice.

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