Three Systems Made the Fake Heiress Unstoppable
Chapter 33: The Truth

Chapter 33: Chapter 33: The Truth

Brooke York returned to the classroom, announced she was back, and sat down for class.

Clara Bell was so anxious she felt like she had ants in her pants. She desperately wanted to ask Brooke what had happened, but with the teacher at the front of the room, talking to her would be too conspicuous. She could only wait until class was over.

When the bell rang, Clara Bell finally had her chance to ask, but to her surprise, their classmates all crowded around.

"Brooke, why did the principal call you to his office?" The students were all curious about why Brooke York had been summoned.

"It was nothing!"

"What do you mean, ’it was nothing’? Come on, Brooke, satisfy our curiosity!"

"Yeah, Brooke, we’re dying to know! Just tell us!"

Clara Bell stared intently at Brooke York, terrified she would mention the confession wall. She had just been thinking about it. ’If this really is about the confession wall, Brooke might throw me under the bus. After all, I’m the one who made the post!’

"The principal just said he wants to discuss something with my dad, so he was asking me about it."

Everyone understood the moment they heard Brooke York’s explanation. The York Family frequently donated money to the school, so it seemed the principal wanted to propose another collaboration.

Clara Bell finally let out a sigh of relief. She immediately started sucking up to Brooke. "Brooke, you’re the young lady of the York Family. Of course the principal would ask you, the one and only true heiress, if he wants to speak with your father!"

"Exactly! That fake heiress from before never had this kind of privilege. The real deal is just different."

The students crowded around Brooke York, showering her with one compliment after another.

"Every single one of them is going to grow up to be a loyal bootlicker for some boss," Stella Winters remarked with a look of disgust, munching on a mix of nuts as she watched the crowd around Brooke York.

Upon hearing this, Chloe York briefly looked up from her book, then lowered her head and went right back to reading, completely unbothered.

’It’s true that people like that tend to get ahead in life,’ she thought. ’The ones who actually do the work often don’t get as much recognition. But if you have enough power, the tables turn. The boss starts needing you. The boss starts sucking up to you.’

Just then, an announcement came over the school’s PA system: "All students, please proceed to the main athletic field for an assembly."

"All students, please proceed to the main athletic field for an assembly."

As the announcement repeated, the crowd of students broke up and began to head toward the main athletic field.

"Ugh, more running drills. I can’t even," Stella Winters grumbled. She packed away her snacks, stood up, and linked arms with Chloe York as they headed to the main athletic field.

Students filed out of their classrooms, all looking unhappy. An assembly on the main field could only mean one thing: running drills. Nobody understood why they had to do it, especially when they had already run during gym class.

When they arrived at the main athletic field, students from several other classes were already lined up in their designated spots.

"What’s with the huge setup? Are those reporters? Don’t tell me they’re going to film us for some TV station!"

"Ah! Quick, help me with my hair! Do I look okay?"

"I hate this! I hate being filmed. Can’t they use a level-ten beauty filter or something?"

Suddenly noticing several people with cameras on the main stage, the students all started fussing over their appearances, asking friends to check their hair.

Following her classmates to the spot designated for Class 6 of their senior year, Chloe York watched the boisterous crowd. ’In moments like this, it still feels like I’m in the real world.’

’So, away from the main cast, the other students’ thoughts and actions are actually pretty normal. They don’t feel like NPCs.’

"Students!"

The principal spoke. A single glance from their homeroom teacher was enough to silence the students. They quickly stood at attention and looked quietly toward the stage, as the camera operators aimed their lenses at Jordan Walton.

"Good morning, students. We won’t be running drills today. Instead, I want to talk about something. It has come to my attention that we have a good Samaritan in our school, a student who did a good deed and didn’t even leave their name."

The moment the principal finished speaking, Brooke York broke out in a cold sweat. ’What’s going on? Didn’t we agree he wouldn’t bring this up in front of the entire school? Why is he suddenly talking about it now? And he even called reporters to film an interview!’

The students began to murmur amongst themselves, whispering, "Who is it?"

"Wow, a genuinely good person like that still exists? And they go to our school!"

"So those people with the cameras must be reporters here for an interview!"

"Our school is about to have a celebrity! I wonder who it is!"

The more she listened, the more terrified Brooke York became. ’There’s no way I can hide the fact that I took the credit now. I never should have claimed I did it back in the principal’s office. I need to find a way out of this.’

While Brooke York was desperately trying to think of an escape, the principal on stage was still speaking animatedly.

"As fate would have it, the student in question saved my own son. If not for her, he would have been taken by human traffickers. I am so incredibly grateful to her. The reporters heard about this student’s good deed and came here specifically for an interview. And now, with a round of applause, let’s welcome her to the stage... It’s none other than Brooke York! Brooke York, please come up and say a few words. Let’s give her a big hand!"

The field erupted with thunderous applause. All eyes turned toward Brooke York in the section for Class 6 of the senior year. As every gaze fell upon her, Brooke’s hands clenched into tight fists.

"Brooke, the principal is calling you! Hurry up and get on stage!"

"Yeah, Brooke, go on up! If the reporters film you, you could go viral!"

Seeing Brooke York frozen in place, her classmates urged her to go. Having a classmate like her was an honor for them all.

But Brooke York didn’t move an inch. ’How could I possibly go up there? I’m not the one who saved him.’

When Ethan Prescott heard Brooke York’s name, something flickered in his eyes. ’Brooke York... saved someone?’

The applause died down, but after a long wait, Brooke York still hadn’t come up. The principal looked a little awkward as he peered toward the area designated for the seniors of Class 6.

The homeroom teacher noticed the principal’s gaze and walked over to Brooke York. "Brooke, I know you don’t want the fame, but you did a good thing. It’s only right that everyone knows about it. Go on."

At this point, Brooke York had no choice but to bite the bullet and head up, clinging to the faint hope that no one would find out the truth.

Seeing Brooke York finally start to move, the principal once again led the applause, and the field was filled with a renewed, thunderous ovation.

"I just find it so hard to believe that Brooke York would save someone," Stella Winters murmured under her breath.

Chloe York already understood what had happened: Brooke York had taken credit for the rescue. But she wasn’t worried. She remembered that when she’d saved the boy, many people had been recording with their phones. The reporters must have gotten the story from the internet. The web was probably flooded with videos of her right now; it was just that no one had had a chance to check their phones yet.

Seeing the "heroic girl" approaching, the reporter in charge of the interview waved her over. The camera quickly focused on the student slowly emerging from the crowd.

"Wait, that’s not right. The girl who saved the boy didn’t look like this at all!"

"Yeah, the girl in the video and this one look nothing alike."

The reporters’ confused comments made the smile on Jordan Walton’s face freeze. ’Not like Brooke York?’