my bully loves me のすべてのチャプター: チャプター 1 - チャプター 10

Helena pressed her forehead against the cold windowpane of the bus, watching the skyline of her old city shrink into the distance. The rain blurred the streets like a watercolor running down glass—an accidental painting of a life she never got to finish.Her fingers tightened around the strap of her backpack. It still smelled faintly of the lavender detergent her dad used. Used to.Helena didn’t cry—not because it didn’t hurt, but because she had cried everything out the night she heard the truth.Her parents' divorce hadn't been like those quiet, exhausted separations people talked about on TV. It hadn’t been about “growing apart” or “irreconcilable differences.” It had been messy. Ugly. And it had started with a name she didn’t recognize.Madison.She was just a friend, her dad had said. A business associate. But friends don’t leave lipstick on shirt collars or send texts at 1 a.m.Helena had found one of those messages by accident. Her dad’s phone was charging in the kitchen, buzzi

Greg Carter’s laugh echoed down the corridor like the sound of polished cruelty. It wasn’t loud. It didn’t need to be. It carried weight—the kind that silenced conversations and twisted stomachs.He walked down the hallway like he owned it, flanked by Ferdinand—his ever-grinning sidekick with the loud voice and louder ego—and Leo, who trailed slightly behind with a frown carved into his face.Ahead of them stood a girl—cute, shy, and clearly cornered. Tessy. Her cheeks flushed pink as she clutched her books tighter, trying to squeeze past them toward the lockers.But Greg stepped in her path, casually holding out an arm.“Well, well,” he said, that amused smirk dancing on his lips. “If it isn’t Brentford’s cupcake queen.”Ferdinand snorted. “Careful, Carter. She might crush your shoes if she breathes too hard.”Greg smirked wider. “Relax, Tessy. We’re just admiring your... gravitational pull.”Tessy flinched. Her smile cracked. She didn’t reply—she never did. She’d learned to laugh so

The Carter estate sat at the top of Silver Ridge Drive like a crown above Brentford. The gates were iron and gold-plated, the security camera lights blinking like silent sentries. Helena stood outside the front entrance, her backpack slung over her shoulder, heart drumming against her ribs like a trapped bird.She rang the bell.The door opened, not to a housekeeper or butler—but Greg himself. His hair was still damp, shirt loose, collarbone sharp. He looked… normal. Which somehow made everything worse.“You’re early,” he said, stepping aside.“I didn’t come to chat,” she snapped.He smirked. “Shame.”She followed him inside. The place was silent. No music, no laughter. The living room looked like a catalog—immaculate, lifeless.He pointed to a small linen closet by the stairs. “Cleaning supplies are in there. Start with the hallway and then upstairs.”She gave him a sharp glare. “Is this the part where you sit back and watch like a bored prince?”Greg arched a brow. “No. I’ll be in m

Brentford Academy thrived on silence. On rumors whispered behind manicured hands and masked by polite nods. But today, silence was dead.It was war.Helena’s name was everywhere. Echoed in the hallways. Splashed across bathroom stall doors. Whispered between students as they refreshed their phones.“Did you see the video?”“She’s just like Sophia.”“No wonder Greg went dark.”She walked through the school like a marked target. Eyes followed her. Phones flashed. Smirks curled behind fake apologies.She wanted to scream.But she kept walking.Head high.Even as her stomach twisted.Even as her throat burned with unshed tears.Tessy walked beside her like a shield.“Don’t say anything,” Tessy warned, her voice low. “They want a reaction. Don’t give them one.”Helena nodded, jaw clenched. “You shouldn’t walk with me.”“What? Why?”“Because you’ll get dragged into this.”“I’m already in it,” Tessy said fiercely. “They’re already calling me names. ‘The chubby sidekick.’ ‘The billionaire’s e

It was late.The library lights buzzed low overhead, casting warm gold shadows across the quiet corners of Brentford Academy. Helena sat curled on a leather couch, her fingers resting lightly on the page of a half-read history book.But her eyes weren’t moving across the lines.Because Greg Carter was sitting across from her—hands laced together, elbows on his knees, and a silence between them that felt… heavy.And honest.He had told her everything.About Sophia.About his father’s manipulation.About the night Sophia disappeared and the voice in his head that had never stopped whispering:You let her go.“I didn’t know how to stop them,” Greg said, his voice rough, like it had been dragged over broken glass. “They wanted her quiet. She wanted justice. I just… froze.”Helena studied him—really studied him. The boy who had once backed her into a wall. The boy who had blackmailed her, mocked her, haunted her every step.But this version of him was different.His voice cracked when he s