Betrayed By My Best Friend I Revealed My Billionaire Heiress Identity Chapter 09
#{Chapter 9|The Curtain Falls}#
Inside the auditorium, the stage that was supposed to be used for the award ceremony is now mine.
I sit on the leather sofa at center stage. Kensington Corp’s executives stand behind me like a wall of power.
Below, the media and the entire school sit in terrified silence.
Richard Ashford, Sloane, Maya, and the principal stand at the very front—like four prisoners waiting for sentencing.
Richard still won’t give up. He pulls out his phone with trembling hands and dials a number.
“Hello? Commissioner Lane? It’s Richard Ashford!”
“Yeah, yeah, I’m at Westbrook right now… someone’s impersonating a Kensington executive and trying to destroy me. You gotta back me up here!”
I watch him perform with cold eyes. I even signal Mr. Harrison not to stop him.
From the other end of the phone comes a furious, panicked voice:
“Richard, are you trying to drag me down with you?! Dominic Kensington just called me personally! You pissed off the Kensington heiress! There’s already a task force investigating your construction fraud and bribery!”
“You’re going to rot in prison! Don’t ever call me again!”
Click. Dial tone.
Richard crumples to the floor like a sack of wet cement.
“Dad! Dad, what’s wrong!” Sloane shrieks and rushes to him. But that expensive crystal gown of hers looks absolutely ridiculous now.
“Alright. Tantrum time is over. Let’s get to the main event.”
I snap my fingers. The massive LED screen behind the stage—the one meant for the school’s promotional video—lights up instantly.
First, a video. Recovered surveillance footage from the school’s own cameras.
On screen: Sloane forcing a scholarship student to kneel on the rooftop. Sloane slapping girls in the bathroom.
And Maya—the “victim” who cried on camera for the whole internet—is right there with a twisted snarl on her face, pinning down the real victims by their arms and legs.
She even hands Sloane a pair of scissors. To cut off a girl’s hair.
The video ends. Then the audio recording plays:
“…Elara is such an idiot. She actually thinks I see her as a friend? I was just using her as a shield.”
“Sloane’s just another dumb rich girl too. Once I get that scholarship, she’s the first one I’m dumping. Bunch of morons!…”
The recording ends. The auditorium erupts.
“Oh my God! Maya was the real monster all along!”
“She framed Elara—the person who protected her—and called her crazy! That’s pure evil!”
“Sloane isn’t some brave heiress! She’s just a bully!”
Down below, Sloane whips around and grabs Maya by the hair. She slaps her across the face so hard the sound echoes.
“You bitch! You dare talk shit about me?! I fed you! I clothed you! And you stabbed me in the back?!”
Maya’s lip splits open. Blood runs down her chin. But she’s completely unhinged now too.
She knows it’s all over. So she goes feral—clawing, scratching, pulling hair right back.
“So what if I talked shit! You think you’re any better?! You made me do your dirty work! You forced me to bully people!”
“This is all YOUR fault! You ugly psycho bitch!”
The two women who performed “sisterly love” for the cameras are now ripping each other apart in front of thousands.
Slapping. Scratching. Screaming. Hair flying.
I watch the whole thing with zero emotion.
“Principal.” I turn to the man standing beside them. He’s literally wet his pants. “Evidence of you covering for bullies and accepting bribes from the Ashfords has already been submitted to the disciplinary board.”
“The police car outside? That’s for you.”
The circus ends when the cops walk in.
Richard Ashford is arrested on the spot for major financial crimes and bribery.
Sloane and Maya are taken away for investigation—assault, defamation, and organized bullying.
The centennial gala becomes the biggest scandal in Westbrook’s hundred-year history.
Walking outside, the autumn rain has finally stopped. The air smells clean and cold.
I’m about to get in the car when a figure breaks free from the police escort. She crawls—literally crawls—to my feet.
It’s Maya.
Her face is covered in scratch marks from Sloane. Tears and snot are running down her chin. That smug, superior look she wore? Completely gone.
“Elara! I was wrong! I know I was wrong!”
“Please save me! I still need to go to college! We were best friends, remember?”
“I washed your lunch box for you! I walked to school with you every single day!”
“You’re so kind—you almost died protecting me before—can’t you forgive me just one more time?”
She’s trying to use those tiny, meaningless gestures from our past to wake up some “compassion” in me.
She thinks if she cries hard enough, I’ll turn back into the fool who took a steel pipe for her.
I lift my foot. And kick her away without hesitation.
“Maya. You still don’t get it, do you?” I look down at her.
“What I gave you back then—my real heart—was priceless.”
“But the moment you stood in that rain, sucking up to Sloane while stepping on me—you became a dead person in my eyes.”
“You love Sloane’s circle so much? Go be her bestie in prison.”
I take the sanitizing wipe my bodyguard hands me. Carefully clean the spot on my shoe where she touched it. Then I drop the wipe on her devastated face.
…
Six months later.
I’m sitting in Columbia’s sunlit library. Warm light pours through the floor-to-ceiling windows onto my textbook.
My phone buzzes. A text from Dom.
[All taken care of. Richard Ashford got 10 years. Ashford family’s bankrupt. Sloane’s dealing cards at an underground casino to pay off loan sharks. She’ll never see daylight again.]
[As for Maya—defamation and bullying charges. She’s underage so no prison time, but her record is destroyed.]
[After Westbrook expelled her, no school would touch her. Heard she couldn’t handle the fall. Lost it mentally. Now she picks through trash under a highway overpass, telling strangers she’s the Kensington heiress’s best friend.]
I read the words on my screen. Pick up my iced americano. Take a slow sip.
The coffee is bitter. But after I swallow—it’s nothing but sweet.