Lahat ng Kabanata ng my bully loves me : Kabanata 11 - Kabanata 20

The ride back to Brentford felt colder than it should have.Helena sat in the back of the car, fingers curled around the warning note like it was burning into her skin.“Sophia was warned too.”Her mum, Mrs. Tricia, had offered to keep her home another week. But Helena had refused.They tried to break her.Instead, they’d made her dangerous.Brentford Academy – Monday MorningWhen Helena stepped through the gates, the school fell into silence.Eyes followed her.Phones lifted.Even the teachers seemed unsure whether to scold her or welcome her back.She wore a black hoodie over a sleek uniform, her eyes hidden behind dark sunglasses. A subtle scar peeked from her jawline where she’d hit the floor at the gala.But her chin stayed high.Bianca was waiting.Leaning against the lockers. Perfect. Untouched. Dressed in winter white.“You’re brave,” she purred as Helena passed. “Or stupid.”Helena didn’t stop walking.“I’d pick a side soon if I were you,” Bianca added. “Before the ground dis

Brentford at night was all sharp shadows and flickering lights.Helena stood outside the headmaster’s office, her hoodie pulled low over her face, heart pounding against her ribs like a war drum. Beside her, Theo knelt at the lock, working fast with a tension wrench and pick.“You sure you want to do this?” he whispered.“I need answers,” Helena said, her voice flat. “And we’re not getting them by waiting around for Bianca to destroy my life piece by piece.”Theo’s tools clicked. The lock gave with a soft snap. The door creaked open.They slipped inside.The office was a polished cage—mahogany desk, gleaming plaques, old trophies in glass cases. On the wall: a framed portrait of Brentford’s founding family. Helena’s eyes lingered too long on one of the faces, a cold chill crawling down her back.Theo darted behind the desk and pulled open drawer after drawer. “We’re looking for anything about Sophia. Records. Letters. Admin logs.”Helena moved to the back bookshelf, fingers trailing a

The rain was relentless.Greg stood outside the tall, iron gates of his family’s estate, fists clenched so tight his nails dug crescent moons into his palms. The world behind him was chaos. Lies unraveling. Secrets bleeding through the cracks in every wall of Brentford.But the real rot?It lived here.He didn’t wait for the butler to answer the door. He shoved it open himself.“Father!”Mr. Carter appeared at the top of the grand staircase, calm as ever in a pressed charcoal suit, a glass of brandy in hand.“I told you not to come back,” he said coolly.Greg climbed the stairs two at a time, fire burning behind his eyes. “You lied to me. About Sophia. About everything.”Mr. Carter’s jaw tensed. “Watch your tone.”“You forged her withdrawal. You were in that room the night she disappeared. I saw the footage, Dad.”His father took a sip of brandy. “You saw what someone wanted you to see.”“Then tell me the truth!” Greg shouted. “Because she’s gone, and I need to know if you had anythin

It was past midnight when Helena slipped out of Detention Dorm C.The campus was cloaked in shadow, with only the glow of motion lights along the cobblestone paths. Every step she took toward the gym felt heavier, like the air itself was warning her to turn back.But she didn’t.She couldn’t.Sophia’s voice rang in her mind:“The room under the gym…”Helena had mapped it out during lunch. The main gym building had a maintenance stairwell on the left side — always locked. But detention students used it once a week to fetch mats for PT.Tonight, she had swiped the key from Coach Darius’s office while mopping.She moved quickly, silently, to the stairwell door.One deep breath.Click.It opened.The air changed immediately — colder, stale. She descended slowly, the creak of the stairs echoing like thunder.At the bottom: a metal door. Rusted. Marked ARCHIVE ROOM C.She pushed.It opened into a dim hallway lined with boxes, discarded uniforms… and a heavy black curtain hanging across the

The chapel at Brentford had been closed for years.Once used for assemblies and ceremonies, it now stood in silence — a forgotten monument near the west edge of the school grounds, where weeds crept over stone paths and ivy clawed up the walls.At 11:57 p.m., Helena slipped out of the detention wing’s side window, hoodie pulled low, shoes quiet on the gravel. Her heart thundered in her chest as she darted between shadows, every crack of a twig a bullet to her nerves.The chapel loomed ahead — tall, black-roofed, and silent as a tomb.She pushed open the old wooden doors, which creaked on rusted hinges. Dust swirled in the moonlight that poured through the broken stained glass. The altar was cracked. The pews sagged.But it was the floorboard near the front that caught her eye.Slightly warped.Recently moved.Helena stepped forward and crouched, fingers trembling as she pried it loose. Beneath was a hollow space — and inside it, wrapped in faded red cloth, was a tin lockbox.She opene