Renea’s POV:

"Tsk, what makes you think I'm following you? We just happen to share the same curriculum," Stella declared with a defiant toss of her braids as we walked toward the lecture hall.

I didn't bother responding. To my slight surprise, we ended up in the same classroom. Stella, never one to wait for an invitation, slid into the seat next to me. "Since fate is so persistent, we might as well be deskmates, don't you think?"

I ignored her banter, pulling an economics textbook from my bag. Meanwhile, the digital landscape of the academy was in an uproar. The school forum was dominated by a thread predicting the outcome of the upcoming preliminary exams.

Because of the stark contrast between the "true heiress" and the "dismissed daughter," the majority of the student body was placing their confidence in Kailey and Sophia. After all, my past academic records were modest at best, while Kailey had been groomed for excellence. Only one anonymous user had placed their faith in me.

At Dream High Academy, the preliminary exam was more than just a test; it was a gateway to the industry. Top performers often caught the eye of talent scouts and major media companies.

"Next performer: Renea Morris. Please prepare for the stage," the host announced.

The house lights dimmed to a heavy silence. When the spotlight finally cut through the darkness, I stood center stage in a vibrant red dress. The choice was bold—red was a difficult color to master without being overwhelmed by it. But as I stood there, my long black hair contrasting with the silk, the room fell into a stunned hush.

A festive, complex tune began to play. I moved.

Every gesture was a translation of the music's hidden sorrows and fleeting joys. I wasn't just dancing; I was narrating a story through motion. The judges, usually quick to scribble notes, sat with their pens poised in mid-air, completely immersed in the performance.

When the music finally died down, the silence lasted for several seconds before the collective scores began to appear—the highest marks awarded in the history of the preliminary exams.

Standing in the shadows outside the hall, Richard White found himself unable to look away. He had seen countless performances, but there was a depth in those cold, emotionless eyes that felt hauntingly familiar.

"Richard, we need to move before the crowd spots you," his manager, Mike Brown, whispered urgently.

Richard didn't move. "Contact her," he said, his voice dropping an octave. "I want her as my lead performer for the musical concert next month."

Mike stared at him in shock. He knew Richard’s reputation for being impossible to please. "I’ll handle it. Just let’s get out of here before there's an uproar."

As I exited the stage, the host announced the next performer: "Kailey Morris."

We passed each other in the wings. Kailey stepped into the light wearing a red dress identical to mine. It was a calculated move. She wanted to prove that even in the same attire, her 'nobility' would outshine my 'fraudulence.' She wanted to show the world that there was only one true star in the Morris family.