The morning sun streamed through the massive French windows of the Vance dining room.
Zero walked down the sweeping staircase, dressed in her crisp Ivy League uniform, one hand casually tucked into her pocket.
At the long mahogany table, her mother, Helena Vance, sat rubbing her temples. A tablet was propped up in front of her, displaying a sea of red downward arrows on the stock market app. Helena looked exhausted, the stress of her husband Brandon's corporate sabotage wearing her down.
Helena heard the footsteps and looked up. She saw Zero's sharp new haircut and tailored suit. A flash of surprise crossed her face, quickly replaced by a heavy sigh. She assumed her "son" was just trying a new aesthetic to get Maverick's attention.
Zero walked to the table. She didn't whine or demand money like the old Zero. She pulled out her chair in silence and sat down with perfect, fluid grace.
She noticed the dark circles under Helena's eyes. Zero reached for the crystal pitcher and poured a glass of warm milk. She slid it across the polished wood until it rested by Helena's hand.
Helena stared at the glass, her hand trembling slightly. In eighteen years, her spoiled child had never once served her.
Zero looked directly into her mother's eyes. Her gaze was steady, anchoring, and completely serious. "Mom. Stop looking at the news. Drink."
Helena's eyes watered. She picked up the glass and took a sip, the warmth soothing her tight throat. "The company's cash flow is broken, Zero. It's bad."
Zero's eyes darkened. She picked up her napkin, dabbing her mouth. She needed capital to build her hacker infrastructure and crush Brandon's faction.
"I will get straight As on the midterms," Zero said flatly.
Helena froze. She offered a sad, broken smile. Zero was at the bottom of every class. "Zero, please..."
"When I do," Zero interrupted, her tone leaving no room for argument, "I need a transfer from your private offshore account. I have a use for it."
Helena, too tired to argue with what she thought was a delusion, simply nodded.
Zero stood up, grabbed her black backpack, and walked out to the waiting car.
When the Rolls-Royce pulled up to River City Academy, the atmosphere was electric. The video of Zero breaking Kenzie's finger and kicking the locker had gone viral on the Campus Forum.
As Zero walked down the hall, girls openly stared, their faces flushing red. Whispers of "bad boy" and "so hot" followed her every step.
Zero ignored them. She chewed on a lollipop, her face an emotionless mask.
She opened her new locker. Three pink envelopes fluttered out. Love letters. Zero raised an eyebrow, swept them up, and dropped them directly into the trash can without breaking stride. The girls watching actually squealed at the cold rejection.
The bell rang. Zero walked into AP Calculus and took her seat in the back. Cody Boggs, her desk-mate, immediately slammed his body against the wall, trying to put as much distance between them as physically possible.
Mr. Peterson, the balding math teacher, began writing a massive, agonizingly complex calculus proof on the chalkboard.
Zero rested her chin in her hand, staring at the numbers. Her brain was a supercomputer for code, but this body's foundational knowledge of academic math was garbage. The formulas looked like ancient hieroglyphs.
Bored and annoyed, Zero propped up a thick English dictionary on her desk. She slipped her hands into her desk drawer and unlocked her phone by touch. She needed to check the dark web traffic on her home server.
Beside her, Cody's terrified eyes caught the faint glow of the phone screen illuminating Zero's lap.
