chapter 10 " The Gala Trap "

The Brentford ballroom had never looked more perfect. Crystal chandeliers sparkled above a sea of silk gowns and pressed tuxedos. Ice-blue drapes lined the windows, and silver snowflakes spun slowly in the glow of soft lighting. It was magic — manufactured, yes — but still magic.

Helena stood just outside the ballroom doors, her breath catching in her throat.

The dress clung to her like it was made for her — deep red, with a low back, a slit up the side, and a neckline sharp enough to cut. The fabric shimmered like spilled wine. She looked like she belonged on a throne.

Tessy adjusted the clasp on her necklace. “You look like vengeance in velvet.”

Helena smiled nervously. “I look like I might fall over.”

“You’ll be fine,” Tessy said. “Just don’t let Bianca bait you. And don’t drink anything you didn’t pour yourself.”

They entered together, and for a moment, all eyes did turn. Phones lifted. Whispers hissed like wind through the hall.

Helena straightened her spine.

Let them stare.

Greg found her near the edge of the dance floor. He looked… stunned.

“That dress—” he began.

Helena glanced down. “It was in the back of your closet. I thought it was yours to keep.”

Greg’s brows furrowed, something flashing across his face. “It wasn’t mine. That used to be Sophia’s.”

Helena froze.

“I didn’t put it there,” he added quickly. “I swear, I didn’t even know—”

But it was too late. The chill had already touched her bones.

Still, she didn’t take the dress off.

She wore it like armor.

The night carried on. Greg stayed close, Tessy floated nearby, and Theo watched from the bar like a silent guardian.

Helena stayed sharp. No drinks. No dark corners.

Until she didn’t.

Until a waiter — unfamiliar — handed her a silver cup with her name etched on a card tied to the stem.

“You ordered this, miss?”

She frowned. “No—”

But Tessy was busy chatting. Greg had stepped out to take a call. And Helena, just for a moment, felt the weight of her mask. She raised the drink. Took a sip.

And tasted nothing.

Just bubbles. Sweet. Smooth.

Five minutes later

Her legs felt heavy.

The floor shifted under her feet.

She blinked — the lights were suddenly too bright. The music warped in her ears like a slowed-down waltz.

“Helena?”

Greg’s voice came from somewhere far away.

She turned to him, eyes unfocused. “I… don’t feel…”

Then her knees buckled.

Greg caught her just before she hit the floor. Gasps rose. Cameras flashed like lightning. Someone screamed.

“Call an ambulance!”

“She’s not breathing right—!”

“Get help!”

But above all the noise, above Greg’s frantic voice and Tessy’s scream—

One person stood perfectly still.

Bianca.

And Tessy — stumbling back in the panic — saw it.

Bianca, calm and unreadable, slipping something small and black into Helena’s purse.

A phone.

Live.

Streaming.

Cliffhanger Ending

Tessy shoved through the crowd. She yanked the purse open — the screen was still glowing.

LIVE: “The Fall of a Queen” — 3,247 viewers.

Helena, unconscious in Greg’s arms.

Bianca stood across the room, raising a champagne glass like a toast, her red lips curled into a soft, satisfied smile.

And Tessy knew—

This was never just a scandal.

It was a trap.

Absolutely. Here is the continued Chapter Ten of The Bully Who Fell First, where the fallout from the gala spirals quickly — and no one walks away untouched.

The hospital was blinding white.

Helena lay on a narrow bed, unmoving, hooked to machines that beeped steadily into the silence. Her red gown had been cut at the side, an IV threaded into her wrist. Her face was too pale.

Tessy sat beside her, fingers shaking around a bottle of water. Her eyes hadn’t left Helena’s face in an hour.

Greg stood by the door, fists clenched, blood dried along his knuckles from where he'd punched the bathroom wall back at the gala.

“They said it was drugged,” Tessy whispered. “Someone spiked her drink.”

Greg nodded stiffly. “I know who.”

Tessy turned. “Bianca.”

He didn’t answer — but his silence said everything.

“She’s twisted,” Tessy said. “She filmed her. She live-streamed her collapsing like it was some sort of performance.”

Greg’s jaw clenched. “And she’s not done.”

A soft knock came. Theo stepped into the room, dark hoodie pulled low, laptop bag slung over his shoulder.

“They took down the video,” he said quietly. “But not before it spread. Half the school saw it before midnight. Admin is scrambling to keep it quiet.”

Tessy looked like she might cry again. “She’s going to wake up to a war.”

“No,” Greg said, stepping forward. “She’s going to wake up and find out we’re already fighting it for her.”

Theo raised a brow. “You’re with us now?”

Greg didn’t hesitate. “I let someone disappear once. I won’t do it again.”

Back at Brentford

Bianca strutted down the hallway, untouched. Untouched — and untouchable. Students parted as she walked, some wide-eyed, others in awe.

Her phone buzzed.

A message popped up from an unknown number:

Anonymous: You hit her too early. She still has allies.

Don’t forget — we want her ruined, not rescued.

Bianca smiled and replied:

Bianca: Trust me. This was only the beginning.

Three Days Later – Hospital Room 304

Helena’s eyes fluttered open.

The ceiling above her was unfamiliar, sterile.

Her mouth was dry. Her head — pounding.

“Easy.” Tessy’s voice, soft. A cool hand on her forehead. “You’re safe. You’re okay.”

Helena blinked. Her throat cracked. “What… happened?”

Greg stepped into view beside her bed. His hair was a mess. He looked like he hadn’t slept.

“You collapsed at the gala,” he said. “Someone drugged you.”

Her lips parted — memory flooding back. The sweet drink. The heat. The spinning floor.

Her eyes narrowed. “Bianca.”

Tessy nodded. “And she streamed it. Everyone saw. But Greg stopped it. Theo’s already working on wiping what’s left.”

Helena exhaled shakily. “Why am I still here?”

Greg reached out, brushing a loose strand of hair from her cheek.

“Because you’re not done fighting.”

Cliffhanger Ending

That night, as the nurses dimmed the lights, Helena sat up slowly and reached for her purse.

She opened the side pocket — and froze.

Inside was a new note.

Neatly folded. No fingerprints. No markings.

She unfolded it with trembling fingers.

Sophia was warned too.

You still have time.

Leave.

Or vanish.

The paper fluttered from her hand as she stared at the window.

Someone had been in her room.

Watching.

Waiting.

And the clock had just started ticking.