The Billionaire's Chubby Heiress

Beatrice

I leaned back, feeling the cold, hard edge of Mr Robert's desk dig into my thighs as I gripped it behind me, my fingers digging into the wood wishing I could disappear. Anywhere but here would do.

"Beatrice," he said, his voice softer now, almost... gentle. That tone had once made me feel special like he was seeing something in me that no one else ever did, something that even I couldn't see. "You've been working so hard," he murmured. "You know you deserve better than the grade you got. We could make sure you get that A. You just need to trust me, alright." Both of his hands landed on my shoulders and I couldn't help but flinch under his touch.

My name is Beatrice Rutherford and I will be turning seventeen in a few months. I'm currently in my second year in high school and school so far has been a walking nightmare. This man before me was just one of the many trials l'd had to face on a daily basis.

He was in his late forties, tall and broad with short dark hair and a moustache to match.

But he wasn't always part of my nightmares. For so long, he was the only one who ever made me feel beautiful, the only one who made me feel... seen.

So how had it come to this?

Most days, I felt like a ghost walking through the hallways. I could hear their voices, the way other students would call me an oversized pig or cow. It had been like that ever since my first year. It was like every part of me didn't fit —my body, my hair, my skin—was something to mock. But what did I expect being one of the only mixed kids in a high-end school like this?

At first, Mr. Robert had been... different. Or so I thought.

He'd been transferred as our new principal right when I was at my lowest--thinking of ending things.

At first, his compliments were my lifeline. "You're beautiful, Beatrice," he'd say. "Special." Words I'd never heard from anyone else. I still remember how excited I would be to style my hair and outfit so I could get one of his compliments. All this time, I'd thought it to be true, I'd thought that his feelings for me were genuine.

A part of me wanted to believe that maybe he was still that kind man, the one who'd been there when I felt like no one else could see anything good in me. But now, that look in his eyes—it wasn't the same.

"Beatrice," he said again, lifting one hand to touch my cheek. "My sweet, sweet Beatrice. What are you so scared of?"

All this had started a few months after I'd agreed to be in a relationship with him. I'd always been insecure about how big my butt and boobs were—after all, it was why I got bullied so often.

With Mr Robert, I felt all grown up, sneaking around to see him in his office. The hugs, the support and even my first kiss he'd stolen. But this time he was asking for too much and I didn't know if I was ready to have my first time with him. Especially not in this office...

I shut my eyes as tears threatened to escape, trembling under the pressure of his gaze and closeness. I could feel his knee pressed between my legs.

It felt sickening.

"I—I don't know," I stammered, my voice sounding small, even to myself. "I think I should go."

He didn't let go. Instead, his expression shifted, darkening just a little. "Let's not forget those photos you sent. You wouldn't want anyone else to see them, would you?"

My heart dropped. Those pictures of me, trying to look grown-up, confident, like someone he'd actually want. I'd only sent them because he asked, and he'd told me they were just for him, that it was okay, that I was sexy. But now, with that look in his eyes, it didn't feel okay at all.

"I—I thought..." I started, barely able to get the words out, "I thought those were private."

He tilted his head, still smiling, but it didn't quite reach his eyes. "They are... as long as you're willing to work with me, Beatrice." His thumb caressed my cheek. It felt so dirty being on my skin. "Just meet me after school, in my office, it would only be a few minutes and everything will be fine. I don't want to hurt you."

I swallowed, my mouth dry, feeling tears sting the back of my eyes. What he was doing would do more than hurt me—it would break me. I had trusted him.

"Please..." I begged, hoping that if he'd ever truly loved me, he wouldn't share those pictures.

He grinned, wiping the tears off my cheek. "I will be gentle. I promise. And if you try telling your parents, I hope they wouldn't mind having a good look at the photos alongside the rest of the school?"

I shook my head, lifting both hands to cover my mouth, to keep myself from screaming. I knew my father could disown me for such behaviour and my mother would punish me harshly. Overall, they'd never look at me the same way.

"Good girl. Now, say you'll be here after school." He kissed me on the forehead gently.

I nodded vigorously without moving my hands away.

As if on cue, the bell went off and he moved aside, allowing me to leave.

Without another word, I turned, nearly stumbling on air as I raced for the door. My face was hot, and my vision blurred. As I rushed out of his office, only one thought echoed in my mind: How could I have been so stupid?

I rushed down the hallway, blinking back tears that blurred everything around me. All I could focus on was getting to class, hoping no one would notice the redness around my eyes. But as I stepped inside, the whole class burst into laughter. For a second, my heart stopped and I thought that Mr. Robert had already shared the photo.

But then I followed the eyes of the students who were looking at the board, blinking to make out what was written.

There it was. My name, next to a sloppy drawing of a pig on the whiteboard. Someone had gone out of their way to circle its butt. A few kids snickered, and my face burned with shame. I kept my head down, doing everything I could to block out their laughter.

I walked to my seat, trying to ignore the burning stares. After I sat, something pressed against my butt. I stiffened. Davis, the guy who sat behind me, was using his foot to kick me.

“Mmhm,” he muttered low enough for only me to hear, and then I heard him chuckle. “I’d pay to hit that.”

This was just another part of the humiliation and embarrassment I had to face every day. Despite his bad intentions, Davis wasn’t my worst classmate. My face was hot, and my hands wouldn’t stop shaking, but I was relieved that it hadn’t been my leaked photos. The rest of the class was a blur. I barely heard the teacher’s voice, and couldn’t even focus on the board. During lunch break, it would be a group of girls that would pick on me—yet, I always reminded myself that it would only be for a few minutes.

As soon as the final bell rang, I bolted out of my seat and headed for the exit, practically sprinting past Mr. Robert’s office. I couldn’t see him. I couldn’t. If he looked at me like he did earlier, I wasn’t sure what I would do. I just had to get home. Home was safe. Or at least, it was supposed to be.

When I got home, the familiar sound of my parents yelling filled the house. I winced, moving quietly, hoping to hell they wouldn’t notice me.

“Beatrice!” My mom’s voice startled me. She was holding a half-empty bottle in one hand, her words slurring. “You’re home early. No club activities today?”

My father eyed me from behind her, both his hands folded. He was British while my mother was South African. They’d met under some sort of ‘love at first sight’ scenario but that couldn't save their marriage. They always argued and some nights, Dad wouldn’t come home. On nights like those, my mum would drown her frustration in alcohol.

Despite that, I wanted to tell them—I wanted to try, even if it was pointless. “Mom... Dad, I... I want to switch schools.”

My dad scoffed, barely looking up. “That’s out of the question.”

“But... please, you don’t understand. It’s... it’s not safe,” I tried, hating how my voice wavered. “I don’t like my school…”

My mom sighed, turning away and waving her hand dismissively. “Go to your room, Beatrice. We can’t listen to this right now.”

I stared at them for a moment, my heart aching. No matter what I said, it didn’t matter to them. They never listened. I turned and walked down the hallway, each step feeling heavier than the last.

As soon as I got to my room, my phone buzzed. My heart stopped when I saw the message.

“I warned you,” it read. From Mr. Robert.

I swallowed, my hands shaking as I opened the text. Then another message came through—a photo of me. I felt my heart drop to my stomach. It was one of the pictures I’d sent him.

I was wearing a G-string with my chest bare, aside from my hands that I put over them and my tongue was out. It was cute and sexy then, when I sent it to him, but now… “No…please.” I rushed to reply but it was too late.

In another buzz, I was tagged in a group chat. Horrified, I opened it to see my picture already circulating, dozens of comments piling in beneath it. My face. My body. Everything I thought was just for him was now out for everyone to see. I couldn’t breathe.

Tears burned my eyes as I curled up on my bed, sobs wracking my body. I couldn’t go back to school after this. Not tomorrow, not ever. I couldn’t let anyone see me, not like this. No one would ever look at me the same way again. I was ruined.

I knew it wouldn’t be long until my parents saw it—there was no getting out of this. I looked up at the ceiling fan. If I could just...

I grabbed a bedsheet and clumsily tried to knot it around the fan, trembling so hard I could barely tie it. I pulled it tighter, took a shaky breath, and stood on the edge of my bed.

But the sheet slipped from the fan before I even got my weight on it, sending me crashing to the floor. I lay there, my cheek pressed against the marble floor, my body aching from the fall. I broke down, sobbing, wishing I didn’t look this way, that I didn’t have to feel this way.

I couldn’t even gather the courage to end it all.

I wiped my face, forcing myself up, and a sudden thought crept in. If I couldn’t stay here, I’d leave. Maybe my parents wouldn’t even notice or care. Not like I cared at this moment. I couldn’t face another day here, with them or anyone else.

At night, after stuffing a bag with a few clothes and grabbing every loose bill I could find, I slipped out the back door. Getting past the house staff was the hard part.

My heart pounded as I walked down the dark, quiet streets. I didn’t even know where I was going but the subway wasn’t a bad choice.

I hadn’t made it far when headlights blinded me. A taxi swerved, brakes screeching, and I instinctively shut my eyes, bracing for impact.