I Received a Text from 30 Years in the FUTURE—So I Sent My Billionaire Family to HELL Chapter 04

I Received a Text from 30 Years in the FUTURE—So I Sent My Billionaire Family to HELL Chapter 04

“Oh, come on, I told you it’s nothing. Just a little scratch. Elias, promise you won’t tell my brothers!”

“Fine, fine, you little princess. If you don’t want them to know, next time you go racing, make sure you take me.”

“Hmph! I was trying to surprise Lucas too. Next race, I’m making him my navigator!”

“Alright, alright. I can’t say no to you…”

I watched two figures flash past the doorway. Amelia shoved a thermos into my hands.

“Here, try my husband’s cooking!”

I lowered my head and took small sips. The soup was amazing. So rich it almost made me cry.

I ended up downing the whole thing in one go—then choked on it. Coughing, I managed to say, “The soup’s so good! Thanks so much! Please tell Mr. Johnson I said thank you!”

“What’s the rush, girl…”

She chided me while patting my back. Then she started lecturing.

“Don’t push yourself like that again when you get back, Celia. Your health is the real foundation for everything!”

“I want you to get into Harvard, but you need balance too, you know?”

“Yeah, yeah.”

The price I paid for staying up all night grinding practice tests? I lost three full days.

Three days. Do you know how many practice tests I could’ve finished in three days?

I ached over all that lost time. The moment I got back, I hit the ground running, determined to make up for every lost hour.

While I was buried in my books, Mia, who’d grown up in Hope Haven with me, kept looking at me like she wanted to say something but couldn’t.

I finally cracked the last insanely difficult math problem three different ways. Feeling pretty good, I finally had time for her.

I fake-swiped my sleeve, leaned back in my chair, and pretended to be a queen.

“Speak, my loyal subject, or leave the court.”

When she still didn’t open her mouth, I added, “Do you have a problem you can’t solve, my subject? Your Majesty has some free time now. I can take a look…”

She finally spoke. Her eyes were full of worry.

“Celia… are you really okay? I heard about the family thing. They…”

Oh. That’s what this was about.

The orphanage had already been told that the Vanderbilts said there’d been a mistake in the DNA test, and that was the end of it.

But a few people knew the truth. They just didn’t want me.

Just like William had said that day, “sometimes blood can’t compete with years of growing up together.”

Going back would just be humiliating.

And for the past two days, news of “the Vanderbilt daughter’s” coming-of-age party was everywhere.

Mia was one of the few who knew the real story. I didn’t want to hide anything from her, so I played the recording of my conversation with William.

I didn’t tell her about the texts. They were too weird.

Or the nightmares…

Like I’d actually lived that life before.

Mia was furious after hearing it all. But I felt nothing.

I said flatly, “It’s fine. Just like in those fake-heiress novels you read. Going back would mean endless competition for attention. Parents, brothers, fiancés—marriage freedom’s been in the Constitution for a long time…”

I couldn’t help muttering, “Besides, my dream is to become a powerful woman like Queen Victoria. This little stuff? Don’t mess with my focus.”

“You…”

Mia didn’t try to comfort me. She just stood up, gave me a hug, and then marched over with a stack of test papers, smiling fakely.

“Alright, Your Majesty, please explain a few problems to your humble servant.”

That’s when I saw Mia’s monthly exam scores. I flipped through them, holding back my anger, then raised my voice.

“This is all you got?”

She poked her fingers together. “Wah wah wah, the test was hard, okay? Not everyone’s a genius like you!”

I took a deep breath and calmed down.

After my “loving” tutoring, Mia finally mastered everything she’d missed—right before bed.

The days that followed were a tense countdown to the SAT.

Every day, from the moment I opened my eyes, it was either practice tests or filling in knowledge gaps.

I was getting into Harvard. No question.

Surrounded by mountains of practice papers, the exams finally arrived.

One day of testing flew by.

Whatever the results, it was done.

After the exams, everyone went wild. Mia and I hit up the class party, then sat around figuring out where to find summer jobs.

We’d be adults soon.

Time to move out of the orphanage.

We ended up deciding to work at Smoky’s Diner. Free meals, free room, and the best hourly wage we could find.

Every day, Mia and I hustled through the noisy, steaming restaurant. Waiting for our scores to come out, grinning like idiots as the aunties shoved food at us.

Crispy Chicken Strips. Cinnamon Sugar Donuts. Pumpkin Pie Bites. And sometimes a Spicy Broth Stew left for us as a midnight snack.

We were like two mice who’d found a cheese factory. Tired but happy.

Finally the day came to check our scores.

Mia scored a 1480 on her SAT, twenty points above her prediction.

I refreshed the page over and over. Sure enough, my score was withheld—top scorer bracket.

Mia freaked out for a solid minute, then ran over to me. When she saw the withheld score, she grabbed me and lost it again.

“Ahhhhh! I knew it! You might even be our district’s top scorer!”

“Badass woman! Long live the Queen!”

“Keep it down. Keep it down. Stay humble.”

What turned out even better than Mia guessed? I wasn’t just the top scorer in the district—I was also the state’s top scorer in STEM.

Amelia was over the moon. When the school invited me back for a celebration dinner and a speech to the juniors, she told everyone she met,

“Hey, did you hear our class produced the state’s top scorer?”

That day, when I went back to Westbrook High, I saw all my high school teachers beaming from ear to ear—and the principal with a grin so wide it almost touched his ears.

Mr. Johnson, Amelia’s sweet husband who’d made me soup when I was sick, gave me a thumbs-up.

The scent of June gardenias filled the air, so refreshing.

When the owner of Smoky’s Diner heard about our scores, he waved his hand and said we weren’t allowed to bus tables anymore.

He hired us—respectfully and for good money—to tutor his daughter and nephew, who were taking the exams soon.

Mia and I took the chance to sell our study materials too.

Why not? Only a fool turns down easy money.

In between tutoring and making cash, we both turned eighteen.

On my eighteenth birthday, Ashford set off fireworks all night.

Mia confiscated the new phone I’d bought with my side-job money, held up a cake, and said,

“Come on, girl. Make a wish. Here’s to good days ahead for both of us.”

I closed my eyes. Through the faint boom of fireworks, I made my eighteenth birthday wish.

“Here’s to us—unyielding, proud, rooted in the earth, standing tall.”

“Here’s to us—radiant, unstoppable, always rising, never giving up.”

As Mia sang her solo version of “Happy Birthday,” I blew out the candles.

We leaned against each other, eating cake, quietly staring at the two acceptance letters lying side by side. Then we looked at each other and smiled.