Loving This Bitch

CHAPTER 9

As Kuya Joberth dropped me off, I couldn't help but notice the sleek white Tesla parked behind us. Rows of luxury cars lined up to drop off the privileged students, children of the wealthy elite. I didn't bother trying to figure out whose it was; only three people I knew used a Tesla to commute to school: Sheldon, Rinoa, and one of my classmates. But frankly, I couldn't care less about their flashy rides.

Ignoring the murmurs and whispers of the other students, I made my way inside.

"Is she here already?" I overheard someone say.

"Looks like the queen bee has competition," another voice chimed in. I furrowed my brows at the comments, choosing to block them out and focus on other thoughts.

I realized I had forgotten my earphones in my haste.

"I thought they weren't arriving until next week?"

I pretended not to hear their gossip, distracting myself with other thoughts.

By the time I reached my classroom, the professor had already arrived, sparing me from any more idle chatter. I took my seat, glad to be away from the nosy whispers of my peers. In a world where gossip and appearances reigned supreme, I preferred to keep to myself and focus on what truly mattered.

"Good morning, class. Before anything else, we have a new student joining us."

We all turned our attention to the newcomer as she walked in. She flashed a flirtatious smile as she stood at the front of the room, and I couldn't help but hear the excited whispers of the boys.

"Good morning, everyone. I know some of you already know me, but I'll introduce myself anyway," she said, her eyes roaming around the room before settling on me. Her earlier smile morphed into a sneer. "I'm Chanel Sullivan, your new classmate starting today."

I scoffed inwardly at her attempt to command attention. Who did she think she was, waltzing in here like she owned the place? Her theatrics were nothing more than a desperate bid for validation, and I had no intention of indulging her ego.

Her family name held weight in the echelons of Philippine society, known for their vast wealth and influence. Yet, despite her privileged upbringing, here she was, a mere shadow of originality, a crude imitation of my own persona. With each calculated sway of her hips and every calculated word that rolled off her tongue, she attempted to mirror my essence. Did she not possess an iota of individuality? I cast a disdainful glance over her from head to toe, noting the familiarity of her demeanor, unchanged despite her supposed status.

As she sauntered into the room, exuding an air of false confidence, I couldn't help but sneer inwardly. Who did she think she was fooling? Certainly not me. Her attempts to mimic my every move were nothing short of pathetic, a transparent bid for attention and validation. But I had no intention of acknowledging her feeble efforts. After all, I had far more important matters to attend to than entertaining the whims of a mere copycat.

With a dismissive flick of my hair, I looked at her from head to toe. Let her play her games and vie for the spotlight; I had no interest in partaking in her petty theatrics. If she sought drama, she would find none in me. And if she dared to challenge me, she would quickly learn that she stood no chance against the queen of this domain.

When our eyes inevitably met, I made sure to convey my disdain through a withering glare. The professor, perhaps sensing the tension, gestured for her to take a seat at the back of the room. As she complied, I allowed a smirk to tug at the corners of my lips. Let her sit in her designated corner, basking in the futile delusion of her own importance. She may think she could steal the limelight, but she had severely underestimated the formidable force that stood before her.