He Used Our Sex Tape To Blackmail Me Out Of Harvard Chapter 03
That evening, Preston came to pick me up for the celebration dinner.
The celebration for Chelsea, who had stolen my Harvard spot.
I was reaching for the passenger door when the window rolled down first.
Behind it was Chelsea, her makeup done to perfection.
She smiled sweetly, her eyes crinkling. “Luna, Preston says the passenger seat is reserved for the person who matters most. You don’t mind, do you?”
I had gone with Preston to pick out this car.
It was our gift to ourselves for getting into Harvard together.
When it first arrived, he’d customized every inch of the interior to my taste.
He’d stuck a decal on the passenger side—”Property of Mrs. Ashford”—and sworn no other woman would ever sit in the seat that belonged to me.
Now the plush charm I loved had been torn off and thrown at Chelsea’s feet, a clear shoe print smudged into the white fur.
And in the seat marked “Property of Mrs. Ashford” sat the person Preston now called “the one who matters most.”
Preston, for his part, acted as if nothing were wrong—he laughed and pinched Chelsea’s cheek. “Stop badmouthing my fiancée. My little moon wouldn’t care about something so trivial.”
I said nothing. He nudged me into the back seat.
The whole way there, the two of them flirted shamelessly, as though I didn’t exist.
Chelsea was practically draped over him.
Seeing how pale I’d gone, she turned around with a grin. “Luna, Preston told me everything. Since you already know, I don’t have to keep hiding it anymore, do I?”
She deliberately loosened her collar, baring the row of kiss marks scattered across her collarbone.
The look she gave me was pure, unconcealed triumph.
“You have no idea how wild Preston is in bed. He kept going even after I cried myself hoarse. Is he like that with you too?”
I stared at her, an involuntary twitch pulling at my eye.
It was as though I were seeing this woman for the first time—the girl who had trailed behind me for three years, sweetly calling me “sis.”
When we’d first met, she’d been timid. But for my sake, she’d once found the courage to warn Preston himself—don’t you dare bully her, don’t you dare do her wrong.
And in the span of three years, she had become the person who bullied me most, who wronged me most.
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