Betrayed By My Best Friend I Revealed My Billionaire Heiress Identity Chapter 03
Chapter 3:The Viral Lie
I’m reaching for medicine when my phone starts buzzing like crazy.
A campus street-interview video has gone viral.
The thumbnail screams in red text:
[STOP SCHOOL VIOLENCE! Exposing Westbrook’s Female Bully and Her Sick Need for Control!]
In the video, Maya’s eyes are red and swollen. She looks like a wounded deer.
Sloane sits beside her, rubbing her back, handing her tissues.
The interviewer holds up the mic: “We’ve heard there’s a girl at your school with a serious rage disorder who regularly assaults classmates. Is that true?”
“It’s true…” Maya chokes out. “I’ve been living in hell.”
“There’s this girl named Elara Kensington. She was my roommate.”
“She has a violent rage disorder and a sick obsession with control.”
“She wouldn’t let me talk to anyone. If any classmate tried to be my friend, she’d beat them bloody.”
“She said she was ‘protecting’ me, but really she wanted me as her personal pet. She made me do her laundry. Bring her food.”
“I lived in terror every single day. I couldn’t even close my eyes at night.”
“Yesterday, she put one of Sloane’s friends in the hospital—for no reason at all…”
She breaks down sobbing, nearly hyperventilating.
Sloane gently takes the mic. She looks at the camera with a soft, determined smile.
“Everyone, don’t be afraid. Standing up to school violence is all of our responsibility.”
“I’m not scared of Elara retaliating. I just want to save Maya—and give her the safe, happy school life she deserves.”
The video ends on a freeze-frame: Maya clinging to Sloane in tearful gratitude.
My knuckles go white around my phone.
She flipped everything.
She took my doing her laundry and turned it into me forcing her to serve me.
She took me fighting off her bullies and called it me isolating her.
She took the pipe I caught for her and made it proof that I’m violent.
I open the comments. Pure venom.
“How is this psycho not locked up? Is Westbrook’s principal dead?”
“That poor Maya girl. Being stalked by a deranged lesbian. She must be traumatized.”
“Sloane is an angel. That orphan Elara should just go die. Hope she gets hit by a car.”
“I found Elara’s account. Let’s go report her. Drag this bitch.”
Someone photoshopped my face onto a funeral portrait. It’s pinned to the top of the school forum.
I stare at Maya’s delicate, tearful face on screen.
And I laugh.
I laugh until the tears mix with blood dripping from my forehead and run into my mouth.
Maya. To suck up to Sloane. To chase some fantasy of climbing the social ladder. You really threw away every last shred of basic human decency, didn’t you?
A week passes. My suspension ends.
I go back to school.