Wine Art Bully Chapter 1

The day I was brought back to my ultra-wealthy family, I was immediately dumped into the most expensive prep academy in the city.

My icy older sister shoved the school uniform into my arms.

"We don't raise freeloaders here. You'd better keep your head down and act invisible."

On my very first day of school, the campus queen bee poured a full glass of red wine right over my dress.

The entire audience held their breath, waiting for me to burst into tears.

I glanced down at my soaked dress, then suddenly began to applaud with immense enthusiasm.

"Brilliant! Absolutely brilliant!"

The queen bee was dumbfounded. "Are you insane?"

With tears sparkling in my eyes, I grabbed her hands tightly.

"With this single splash, you have highlighted the class divide, awakened female consciousness, and exposed the absurd underbelly of elite education!"

"Classmate, you are a born performance artist!"

Queen bee: "..."

Ten minutes later, the senior art teacher came running over, his voice trembling with sheer excitement.

"Who? Who was it that just executed this live installation of Wine and Power?!"

I pointed straight at the queen bee.

"It was her."

Later on, her family's corporate stock value actually skyrocketed.

Yet she broke down completely over the campus-wide PA system, screaming hysterically:

"I literally just wanted to bully her!"

* * *

The auditorium was so quiet you could hear the red wine dripping off the hem of my dress.

Drip. Drip.

It splattered onto the polished marble floor.

Penelope, the school queen bee, stood there holding an empty crystal goblet, her triumphant smirk freezing mid-frame. Beside her, a couple of girls had already whipped out their phones. One had even angled her camera for optimal lighting.

In the front row, someone was softly counting down.

"Three."

"Two."

"One."

They were waiting for me to burst into tears.

I didn't cry. Instead, I began to applaud with immense enthusiasm.

My applause echoed loudly through the cavernous hall, sharp and jarring.

Penelope knit her brows, struggling to regain her composure. "Cora Montgomery, have you lost your mind?"

Cora Montgomery. That was the shiny new name assigned to me after I was brought back to the ultra-wealthy Montgomery family. It sounded very high-class, even if it felt a little unfamiliar rolling off my tongue.

I looked up at her, my gaze solemn and overflowing with respect. "Penelope, you are far too humble."

Penelope blinked. "What?"

I swept my gaze across the room. Every freshman and faculty member was present. Elite prep academies really were built different. Even their crowds for witnessing a public humiliation were impeccably organized.

Talk about a jackpot.

I cleared my throat and lifted the soaked fabric of my skirt. "Everyone, look at this dress! Originally, it was just a standard piece of off-the-rack haute couture."

"But with this single splash of Cabernet from Penelope, it is no longer ordinary!" I continued passionately. "It now possesses conflict! Class dichotomy! Raw pain! And above all, philosophical thought!"

A few students in the front row had their expressions twist in visible confusion.

Behind the stage, the senior art teacher, Mr. Adler, poked his head out. He had initially come to check the stage decorations for the orientation ceremony, but hearing my speech, his footsteps halted dead in their tracks.

I spotted him instantly and immediately yielded the floor to the professional.

"Mr. Adler! You arrived just in time!" I called out. "Please, evaluate this from a professional standpoint. Does Penelope's splashing gesture hold value as a piece of avant-garde performance art?"

Mr. Adler adjusted his glasses, his eyes sweeping from my wine-stained gown to Penelope’s pale face.

Penelope panicked. "Mr. Adler, I didn't..."

Before she could finish, I grabbed her wrist in a tight, dramatic hold. "Don't explain yourself! True artists never rush to define their own work!"

Penelope’s lips trembled.

Mr. Adler took two steps closer. He stared at the wine stains dripping down my skirt for a full fifteen seconds. Then, his eyes ignited with brilliant fervor.

"The fluid motion of that crimson hue... it truly carries an explosive tension that shatters conventional order!" he gasped.

Dead silence fell across the auditorium.

Penelope’s sidekick almost dropped her phone onto the floor.

I nodded, my voice dripping with deep solemnity. "You understand me, Mr. Adler. No, wait, you understand Penelope."

Mr. Adler had fully crossed into an artistic trance. He began circling me, muttering to himself, "The subject, the oppressor, and the voyeurs... all three parties simultaneously construct a complete live installation!"

The Headmaster, who had been waiting on stage to deliver his welcoming address, was now whiter than the projection screen. He hurried down the steps and whispered forcefully, "Miss Montgomery, the orientation ceremony is about to begin. Please go change your clothes immediately."

I gasped in profound shock. "Headmaster! Are you suggesting we interrupt a priceless, live artistic event?"

The Headmaster choked on his words.

I pressed my advantage. "Doesn't Crestview Academy always emphasize freedom, diversity, and raw creativity? Right here, right now, Penelope has used a single glass of wine to open the very first aesthetic masterclass for our freshman cohort. Are you really going to shut this classroom down?"

A vein throbbed violently on the Headmaster's temple. His eyes darted toward the dozen phone cameras pointing directly at him.

The people who had originally recorded my humiliation were now capturing bulletproof evidence of his bureaucratic dilemma.

The Headmaster remained silent for three full seconds. Then, he offered a strained, painful smile. "Of course not. Our academy has always respected the creative expression of our students."

Penelope was utterly dumbfounded.

I turned around, took her hand, and bowed deeply to the entire audience. "Thank you, everyone! And thank you, Penelope, for bringing us this masterpiece titled Wine and Power!"

Scattered applause erupted from the crowd. Some were just here for the drama, some were coerced by the mood, and others simply hadn't processed what had just transpired.

Penelope’s face turned an unsightly shade of green and white.

I leaned into her ear and whispered softly, "Don't be nervous. When great artists first achieve fame, they always feel a bit out of their element."

She yanked her hand back violently. "Cora Montgomery, you just wait!"

My eyes lit up. "Fantastic!"

Penelope stared at me with intense suspicion.

I beamed at her with pure sincerity. "Penelope, do you already have a second piece planned?"