Betrayed By My Best Friend I Revealed My Billionaire Heiress Identity Chapter 04
Chapter 4:Welcome Back, Psycho
The second I reach the classroom door, I sense something’s off.
I push the half-open door—and hear a loud splash.
A bucket of foul-smelling dirty water comes pouring down from above the door frame.
If I hadn’t stepped back half a second faster, it would’ve drenched me head to toe.
Even so, my pants and shoes are splattered with muddy water.
A beat of silence. Then the whole classroom explodes with laughter.
“Ha! The rabid dog is back! Everyone cover your noses—don’t catch her crazy!”
“Elara, you actually have the nerve to show your face? If I were you, I’d have jumped off the roof by now!”
I lift my head. My eyes cut through the laughing crowd to the center of the room.
Sloane is sitting at her desk, examining her fresh manicure. She doesn’t even look up.
And Maya—she’s sitting in my seat. Laughing louder than anyone.
When she sees my cold stare, she doesn’t flinch. She raises her voice on purpose.
“Elara, what are you glaring at? You wanna hit me again?”
Maya points a finger right at my face. Her tone is sharp and nasty.
“I’m telling you—now that I have Sloane and the whole class behind me, I’m not scared of you anymore, you psycho! Don’t even try to play victim here!”
I don’t respond. I walk straight to the back of the room. To the trash can.
My desk is lying there. The surface is covered in red spray paint: “DIE,” “FREAK,” “GET OUT OF WESTBROOK.”
Every book in the desk has been ripped apart, pages scattered across the floor.
And sitting on top of the pile—a study guide covered in dirty footprints.
That’s the one I spent three all-nighters making. I hand-copied every past exam question, one by one. I was going to give it to Maya.
Because she once cried to me that she couldn’t afford the expensive prep books. That she was scared she wouldn’t get into a good college.
I bend down and pick it up.
When Maya sees it, her expression shifts for a split second.
Then she rushes over, snatches it from my hands, and rips it in half with a loud tear. She slams the pieces into my face.
“Who are you trying to gross out with this garbage?”
“Sloane already gave me her private tutor’s notes—written by a Columbia professor!”
“This trash from a dumb loser like you? It belongs in the garbage!”
The sharp edge of the paper slices my cheek. A thin line of blood appears.
Looking at Maya’s smug, borrowed-courage face, the last trace of anything I ever felt for her dies.
“Maya.” My voice is strangely calm. The laughter around us goes quiet.
“This is the last time you’ll ever bark in my face. Enjoy it.”
I turn and walk out. Behind me, Maya screams curses at my back.
I don’t look back.
I’m going to the principal.
I have every single text Maya ever sent me—begging for help. I have recordings of Sloane running a protection racket and beating people in the bathroom.
Once the truth is out in the open, the school will have to give me justice.
The principal’s office door is slightly ajar.
I’m about to knock when I hear him on the phone, his voice dripping with flattery.
“Oh, Mr. Ashford! You’re too kind! That library you donated will be finished next week.”
“Your Sloane is such an outstanding student—the Kensington Scholarship is practically hers already!”
He hangs up. Sees me. His face drops like a stone.
“What do you want now? Did you finish that five-thousand-word apology? If not, get out and write it!”
I don’t answer. I walk straight to his mahogany desk and slam down a thick stack of printed pages and a voice recorder.
“Principal. That interview online is slander.”
“These are two years of texts from Maya begging me to save her—proof that I was protecting her.”
“The recorder has evidence of Sloane collecting protection money and assaulting students in the bathroom.”
“I demand the school clear my name immediately and punish Sloane and Maya.”
He freezes. His eyes dart nervously to the evidence.
But he doesn’t open a single page. He shoves it all into a drawer.
“Nonsense!” He slams the desk so hard the tea splashes out of his cup.
“Elara Kensington, are you crazy? You think a few fake screenshots can slander our best students?”
“Fake?” I almost laugh. “You can verify them with the phone company’s records!”
“Verify what?! For a troublemaker like you, I’m supposed to investigate our model students?”
“Do you have any idea how much Sloane’s father has donated to this school? Do you know the Kensington Corp executives are coming to next week’s gala?”
“And your little ‘rage disorder’ rumor has already destroyed our school’s reputation!”
“I’m officially informing you—you’re expelled! Pack your bags and get out. Stop dragging Westbrook’s name through the mud!”
The door swings open behind me.
Sloane and Maya walk in.
They’ve been listening the whole time.
Maya immediately turns on the waterworks, eyes red on command.
“Principal, Elara just threatened me in class! Those texts—she held a knife to my throat and made me send them!”
“It was all to feed her sick obsession with control! You have to protect me!”
“Maya,” I stare straight at her, “when you lie like this—do you ever have nightmares?”
Maya hides behind Sloane, eyes darting. But her mouth keeps going.
“If I do have nightmares, it’s because of you, you psycho!”
“Enough, enough.” The principal waves his hand impatiently. “Elara, get out of this school. Now.”
“And if you say one word about this outside, our legal team will sue you for defamation.”
So that’s how it is. There’s nobody left in this school who will stand up for me.
“Fine. I’ll go.”