Betrayed By My Best Friend I Revealed My Billionaire Heiress Identity Chapter 05
Chapter 5:The Last Umbrella
I take a deep breath. I rip the Westbrook badge off my chest and toss it in the trash.
“One day, every single one of you will regret what you did today.”
“And when that day comes—even if you crawl to me on your knees—I won’t show mercy.”
I walk out the school gate. The autumn rain is pouring harder now.
I keep walking. Numb. Soaked.
Then—a sharp car horn blares behind me.
It’s the Ashfords’ G-Wagon.
The window rolls down. Sloane and Maya are in the warm backseat, looking down at me like I’m roadkill.
“Elara! Here—catch!” Maya throws a friendship bracelet out the window.
“A little advice? When you’re this broke, drop the pride act.”
“You think you’re some kind of hero? You’re just trash who can’t even afford a meal!”
“Sloane is about to get the Kensington Scholarship. And I’m riding her wave straight to the top.”
“You? You’ll die in the rain like a stray dog.”
Sloane smirks. The window goes up.
The G-Wagon splashes mud all over me and speeds away.
I stand alone on the empty street, watching those taillights disappear.
Enough.
This pathetic game of pretending to be ordinary—I’m done playing.
I reach into my pocket and pull out a satellite phone. I press a number I haven’t dialed in two years.
It rings once.
“Elara?” A deep male voice answers instantly.
“Dom.” I listen to the rain. My voice is dead calm.
“I’m done pretending to be poor.”
On the other end, my brother’s tone goes ice-cold in a heartbeat.
“Who hurt you?”
I don’t answer directly. I just wipe the rain off my face.
“Do me a favor. Look into Westbrook’s principal. And the Ashfords—that new-money construction family. Also…”
I pause. Maya’s fawning face flashes through my mind.
“They’re so desperate for the Kensington Scholarship, aren’t they?”
“Tell the school—at next week’s centennial gala, Kensington Corp’s highest representative will attend in person. To present the award on stage.”
I hang up.
Less than three minutes later, a black Rolls-Royce Phantom with single-digit plates glides to a stop in front of me.
The lead bodyguard opens the rear door and bows deeply.
“Miss Kensington. Welcome home.”
I step through the muddy puddles and sink into that car.
The door closes.
And the stupid, naive Elara who wasted two years playing poor—she dies in this autumn rain.