Chapter 3: Behind the scar

Chapter 3

Behind the scar

Tessa’s POV

I woke up in a clinic, the white lights stung my eyes for a moment before I saw Catherine sitting beside me.

“Hey, Catherine,” I said, as she rushed to hold my hands. “What happened?”

“You collapsed, Tessa. You fainted right in the middle of the restaurant. How are you feeling now?” she asked, with a  concerned look. “You really need to rest.”

Just then, the door slammed open. It was our manager.

“Just know there’s no salary for you this month!” he barked, not even asking if I was okay. “The hospital bills and the food you spoiled, it's all coming out of your pay.”

He didn’t wait for a reply, with a huff, he turned and walked out. Catherine stayed for a while, then left too when she saw I needed rest.

Left alone, I stared at the ceiling, tears slowly slipping down the corners of my eyes. How was I supposed to survive the next month with no money?

I lost both of my parents when I was little. My mom died when I was two, and my dad followed just three years later.

When I was nine, I had an accident that disfigured part of my face. Since then, people either avoided me or made cruel jokes. Kids whispered behind my back and laughed—and not for a moment has it ever stopped hurting.

Grandma took care of me after that. She was all I had until she passed two years ago. Now, I live alone in the tiny house she left behind—barely standing, but still the only place that feels like home.

***

Four days later

I sat on the old sofa in our small living room, the springs poking my back as I watched our flickering TV screen. It was showing Teen Spotlight, and the girl being interviewed was Elena Scarlet—the only daughter of America’s richest man.

She was my age, maybe even in the same grade. Everything about her sparkled—her skin, her hair, even her smile. She was everything I ever wished I could be. I watched her excitedly whenever I was free, drawn to her like she was made of sunlight..

“She doesn’t even have to try,” I mumbled to myself. “She just had to be pretty.”

I wasn’t jealous—just tired. Tired of struggling while others floated through life like it was handed to them on a silver spoon.

I was on a full scholarship at Achievers Academy, a nearby school that honored my grandma for playing a significant role in the community. Not wanting to waste that, I grabbed my old backpack—the same one Grandma bought for me four years ago—and left for school.

Just as I got to the school gate, I heard a voice I dreaded.

“Tessa!”

I turned. It was Mr. Wilson. His voice always made me feel smaller than I already felt.

“You, come here,” he barked.

I walked over quickly, already guessing what it was.

“Why are you late?” he asked with that same tone he always used—disgust.

I checked my watch, I was already ten minutes late. I closed my eyes and sighed.

“I’m sorry, sir.”

He didn’t care.

Two girls from my class walked past just then and greeted him—both late too—but  he didn’t stop them.

I whispered under my breath, “This is pure wickedness.”

“What did you say?” he snapped.

“Nothing, sir.”

“Now frog-jump to your class, and don’t forget—I’m watching you.”

I bent down and started hopping, ignoring the laughter and pointing fingers around me.

***

In Marketing class, I struggled to focus, my mind kept drifting to all the things I had once hoped to be—a model, an actress, someone who inspired other kids like me who had no parents or means but still dreamed big.

A sharp hit on my desk pulled me back to reality.

“Tessa!” Mrs. Lilian shouted, “why are you looking lost in my class?”

The class bursted out laughing.

“I’m sorry, ma,” I said quickly, lowering my eyes.

“Now explain what’s on the board!”

It was meant to embarrass me. She always tried to catch me off guard.

I stood up slowly, took a deep breath, and read the title on the board: The Power of Branding.

One thing—and maybe the only thing—I was truly grateful for was my intelligence, no one could take that away from me. 

I had seen the framed awards my dad received before he died, they were tucked away in a dusty box in Grandma’s cupboard. And deep down, I believed I had taken after him. It was like a small fire inside me, one that hadn’t died no matter how hard life tried to put it out.

I cleared my throat and began.

“Branding shapes how people perceive a product, service, or company—even before they experience it directly. A strong brand creates recognition, trust, and emotional connection. Branding also influences consumer behavior. 

Through consistent visuals, messaging, and values, a brand can make a product appear more desirable, even if it’s similar to others in the market. That’s why people often pay more for a brand they recognize and trust rather than a cheaper alternative. 

In today’s market, branding isn’t just a logo or slogan—it’s the story, tone, and promise behind a business. That’s what gives it power.”

There was a long silence.

Mrs. Lilian finally muttered, “Sit.” with an angry face 

***

It was break time, so I sat in my chair, resting my head on the desk, that was when Martha walked up and tapped me lightly.

“Mr. Tibi is calling you,” she said, then turned and went back to her seat.

Why is he calling me? I wondered as I stood up and began walking toward his office.

Mr. Tibi was our homeroom teacher—one of the few who genuinely liked me for being smart.

But as I stepped into the office and saw Jessica standing beside him, I had a strange feeling something might be wrong.

“Good Morning Mr. Tibi” I greeted, as I got to his table.

“Morning,” he responded, his eyes still fixed on a paper on his desk.

Then he leaned forward and cleared his throat.