Chapter 23 #2
“She planned this! Those poor girls—”
“Arrest her!”
The word hits me like a slap.
Arrest.
Arrest me?
My throat closes. Something ugly claws up my chest. And suddenly it’s all too much—the lights, the slime, the accusations, the way Vivian’s crocodile tears smear through green gunk, the way Rosalie is sobbing so loudly she can barely breathe.
Another night ruined.
Another night someone tries to turn me into a villain.
Another night I’m the one they want to drag away.
My hands start to shake.
I try to breathe but my lungs won’t work. Everything feels like it’s getting smaller, tighter, like the whole world is squeezing me to see if I break.
Leo steps in front of me, his body pinning mine to his chest.
His voice drops into that lethal calm he inherited from a long line of powerful people.
“Not. One. Word.”
The entire ballroom stills.
He doesn’t look at me—he looks at them—like he’s ready to burn the place down.
“I’ve already called our attorneys,” he says, voice sharp enough to cut glass. “And PR. Any false public accusation from this point forward will be treated as defamation.”
He squeezes my hand hard. Hard enough to anchor me. Hard enough to tell me he’s not letting go.
Parents shout back. Someone threatens to call the cops. Someone else swears their daughter saw me near the balcony. Phone cameras flash. Rumors fly.
My pulse is sprinting. My jaw shakes. My knees wobble.
“This is enough,” I whisper, and it comes out broken. “This… this is my breaking point, Leo.”
He turns toward me, eyes dark and steady, and cups the back of my head.
“I’ve got you,” he murmurs, pulling me into him as I tremble. “We’ve got this.”
But my voice cracks as the truth erupts out of me.
“It’s over.”
He stiffens. “Jade—”
“No one will believe me,” I say, louder this time, breath shaking. “No one ever believes the scholarship girl.”
Leo’s jaw flexes.
Kannon swears under his breath and tightens his hold on my other shoulder.
Xavier cracks his knuckles.
Tristan mutters, “Let one of them try and touch you… watch what happens.”
But none of them—none of these boys who would ride into war for me—can quiet the ache inside me.
Because deep down, I know the truth.
It doesn’t matter how fancy the ball is.
Or how expensive the dress.
Or how calm Leo tries to make his voice.
Some people will always see me as the girl who doesn’t belong here.
The girl they can destroy without consequence.
The girl whose word means nothing.
And for the first time tonight, I’m not sure I have the fight left to prove otherwise.
Tristan mutters, “Let one of them try and touch you… watch what happens.”
“She needs to be questioned,” someone shrieked.
“I’m filing a restraining order,” hissed Rosalie. “This time it sticks, bitch.”
Phones were out. Police were being called. And me? The scholarship girl? I was the one they wanted behind bars.
I tried to breathe. I really did.
But I couldn’t feel my lungs.
This was too much. Another night ruined. Another moment stolen. Another room full of rich liars painting me as the villain in a story I barely had a chance to write.
I whispered, “It’s over.”
Leo pulled me closer.
His arms were around me, tight. Strong. Safe.
“I’ve got you. You’ve got this,” he whispered against my temple.
“No one will believe me,” I said so quietly I wasn’t sure it came out. “No one ever believes the scholarship girl.”
The lights were still flashing from cell phone cameras. Police had entered. Voices rose.
And then—Xavier stepped forward, like he’d been waiting all night for his cue.
He leaned in, whispered in my ear with a grin so smug it could slice steel. “Boomerang,” he said. Just one word.
Then he pulled out his phone and hit send.
I blinked. “What did you do?”
“Wireless. Battery backup. Mic’d the whole place.”
My jaw dropped.
“You mic’d the—?”
“I knew they were planning something,” he said, casual like we were talking about the weather. “So I installed wireless security cameras last night. Didn’t need the old wiring. Didn’t need the mansion’s power. I also might’ve had night vision cameras…”
A hush fell over the room.
The head of the mansion’s historical society stepped forward, pale and shaking. “There’s… been a new development,” he said. “We have footage. Full surveillance of the ballroom during the blackout.”
People gasped. A few looked like they were about to faint.
Rosalie’s face went gray.
Blair looked like she might throw up.
And then the footage played on a projector someone rolled out from the back, like this had become a damn premiere.
Everyone watched as, clear as day, the girls slimed themselves.
Dumped buckets of green and gold goo down their own dresses in the dark—timed to perfection—and then threw the evidence at my feet.
“You set me up,” I whispered.
“No,” Leo said darkly, his voice like thunder. “They tried.”
Police swarmed. Questions flew.
People scattered.
And Blair? Rosalie? Their parents?
They were too busy yelling at the officers as handcuffs came out.
Xavier smiled as if Christmas had come early. “Game over, ladies.”
And for once… I believed it.
The silent truce was shattered. And this time? The truth was finally on my side.
The ballroom had never been so quiet.
Not after the cops showed up. Not even when Xavier dropped the footage that burned every lie down to cinders.
No—this silence was different.
It was the silence that came before a storm. Or maybe a reckoning.
Because when she entered—heels clicking against polished marble, her silhouette backlit by chandeliers—everyone stood a little straighter.
Leo’s mother.
Mrs. Holt.
No one needed an introduction. Everyone already knew her name—and her power.
She didn’t smile. She didn’t blink. She didn’t stop until she reached the center of the chaos. Her gaze swept over us like a surgeon assessing a ruined body.
Then she spoke.
“Immediate expulsion,” she said coldly. “I’ll demand nothing less.”
The room exhaled like it had been punched in the gut.
“I don’t want another headline tarnishing this school’s legacy. Not another scandal attached to families who built this institution over hundreds of years—on principle. On discipline. On hard work,” she snapped, voice sharp and full of steel. “Something today’s youth seem to be sorely lacking.”
She didn’t raise her voice, but no one dared speak.
Her eyes landed on me.
And I couldn’t move.
“Will there be fallout?” she said, her tone flat. “Yes. But should Miss Bryan suffer? Of course not. She is the only one here who’s shown discipline.”
I swallowed hard. My hands were shaking again.
“In fact,” she continued, “the fact that she hasn’t sued you all into oblivion already—and walked away with the full trust fund and legacy perks she’s owed—is proof of her restraint.”
The crowd began to murmur. Discomfort rippled across every polished face.
Then she looked right at me. “Miss Bryan,” she said smoothly, “I stand behind you.”
A breath hitched in my throat.
“What say you?”
I looked at the girls who tried to destroy me. Their perfect dresses now streaked with their own lies. Their families now cornered. Their power crumbling.
“Immediate expulsion,” I said, my voice stronger than I expected. “Sounds good.”
I paused. Then added, “And I want my settlement. No NDA. The world deserves to know the truth.”
Gasps again. No one expected that.
Mrs. Holt arched a brow. Then she smiled—for the first time. It wasn’t warm. It was the kind of smile you’d wear before checkmate.
“Consider it done.”
Just like that.
No fight. No objections.
The queen had spoken.
And this time?
She was on my side.
The air in the ballroom stank of old paint, sweat, and something bitter—fear maybe.
Or slime.
The matron of the Historical Society stepped forward, her eyes scanning the wreckage like a general surveying the aftermath of a battlefield.
Her pearls gleamed, but her voice? Ice-cold steel.
“My paintings,” she snapped, pointing a manicured finger. “That wallpaper is over three hundred years old. Imported. From France. You girls think this is fun and games? I will be adding charges.”
She pulled a list from her handbag like it had been prepped in her dreams. “Defacement. Improper conduct. Destruction of a registered historic landmark. And cutting electricity to a protected building—criminal mischief and endangerment.”
You could actually see the parents’ faces fall.
All their money.
All their privilege.
And none of it could shield them from what they knew was coming. Arrests. Court dates. Mugshots.
Someone whimpered. Another one’s mom turned on her heel and slapped her daughter straight across the cheek. Phones were buzzing with calls to lawyers. The society matron just kept writing.
And me?
I just stood there. For once, letting everyone else scramble to fix the mess they made. No defense needed. No last words.
Just truth, finally cutting through like sunlight.
Beside me, Kannon let out a slow exhale.
“I’m sorry,” he said softly. “When I asked you out tonight, this… wasn’t what I pictured.”
I turned to him, tugged him just a little out of the chaos.
“Kannon…” I started gently. “I like you. I really do. You’ve been amazing.”
He looked down. His jaw tensed.
“But it was Leo first,” I said, softer. “It’s always been him. He got to me first.”
Kannon’s lips twitched, and then he leaned in and brushed a slow, sad kiss against my forehead.
“I know that, Jade,” he whispered. “Keep in touch, though?”
I nodded, trying not to cry.
And then I saw him.
Leo. Moving through the crowd like it was war. He had left me briefly to be the knight. The fighter going into war for me. A war Leo knows how to win.
Talking to the police. Speaking to the Historical Society’s matron. Standing next to his mother, who didn’t even blink when the press showed up outside. His suit was rumpled now, but he was commanding. Steady. Mine.
I didn’t even know he’d returned until I felt his fingers lacing through mine.
He didn’t ask.
Just took my hand.