Winning the Heir Who Bullied Me Chapter 161

**APRIL’S POV**

My phone has been buzzing nonstop for the last two days, and now the drawing room sounds like a beehive of vibrations and distant news clips.

Every time I look down, there’s another notification—journalists, influencers, feminist collectives, legal analysts, strangers demanding comment.

Lara’s getting it worse. She’s gone full ghost mode, her switched-off phone face-down on the marble coffee table.

Killian Ellington doesn’t waste time.

He arrived early this morning from New York, looking every bit the high-powered attorney he is—crisp navy suit, sleek laptop bag, sharp jawline that could cut glass.

“You should have called me first,” was the first thing he said to his little sister, voice taut with restrained authority. “Before you made the whole country explode.”

Lara said to her oldest brother the same thing she told Julian: “I knew you’d stop me.”

To which he pulled her into a fierce hug while simultaneously smacking the back of her head gently.

The mansion’s private library has been transformed into something of a war room, legal jargon flying back and forth between Killian and two members of the Ellington family legal team.

Julian’s here too, glued to his laptop as he cross-checks legal avenues. Lily is stuck in Maine, and their father and second brother are on the brink of a delicate merger in Sweden.

But between Julian and Killian, I’d say we’re covered.

“We’re being sued,” Julian announces flatly. “Slander. Defamation. Breach of contract. Emotional distress. Ashford PR is spinning this as a personal vendetta by two disgruntled contestants.”

“Classic,” Killian scoffs. “Let them. We have the truth—and public support.”

Do we? I glance at Lara. Her poker face is immaculate, but I can see the tremble in her thumb against the rim of her glass.

“They’re going to try to bury us,” she says, quiet but firm. “We have to take away their shovels and fucking hogtie them.”

The room nods. Plans fly back and forth—counter-litigation, protective injunctions, interview strategy.

I’ve stopped trying to Google the meanings of words that sound like spells.

It’s surreal watching Lara sit at the center of this storm, calm and vicious and terrifyingly composed. I get it now, why she was so confident in this plan—she’s a force, and she has an entire army at her back.

I wait for a lull. Then I tap her wrist.

“Hey,” I say, nodding toward the hallway. “Can I steal you for a sec?”

She gives me a curious look but follows me without protest. We duck into the next room, a large private study that doesn’t seem like it’s been used in a while.

I close the door behind us and turn to her.

“I need to ask you something,” I say.

“Sure. What’s up?”

“How did you pull it off?”

Lara blinks. “Uh…you lured Lucas into—”

I shake my head. “Not *that*. The video. The timing. The projection. The backup copies. All of it. You made it look effortless.”

Her lips twitch, and nothing prepares me for her answer.

“Nathan helped.”

I blink.

“Nathan…*Ashford*?”

“Yeah.”

“You’re serious?”

She nods once, grinning. “He rigged the projector. He made sure the feed was looped so we had a delay buffer. That’s why he wasn’t present.”

I sit down hard on the edge of the table, trying to wrap my head around it.

Nathan.

I don’t know what I feel. Gratitude? Confusion? Pride?

*"Stop him."*

*"I’m a fucking coward who can do nothing but watch it happen."*

A pressure builds in my eyes, in the back of my throat.

“I…didn’t expect that,” I say lamely.

“I think he’s been waiting to blow it all up for a long time,” Lara says, a flicker of softness in her voice. “We just gave him the excuse.”

I shake my head. “Do you think they found out? Do you think he’s okay?”

Oh God, if Samuel finds out…

The door bursts open, and Julian pokes his head in, his voice laced with urgency. “You guys need to see this.”

Lara and I exchange a panicked look before moving, following Julian out.

Killian is standing in front of the massive TV above the fireplace, which he’s mirroring from his phone. It’s a social media feed. A video is blowing up—hundreds of thousands of views within minutes.

Lara and I stiffen.

“Turn it up,” she says.

The volume increases. The video is raw, a single frame of a girl sitting on a couch. Blonde hair, puffy eyes, pale lips. Gracie Storm.

*“Fuck you. Fuck you and your rules. Fuck this mansion and all its hidden corners. Fuck the Ashfords. Fuck Nathan and Peter and—times one fucking billion—*fuck *Lucas!”*

Holy. Shit.

She clears her throat. “My name is Gracie Storm. And I—I need to tell the truth.”

The air in the room shifts. Everyone stills.

“I was a contestant in the Ashford bridal selection. A couple of times in the mansion, Lucas Ashford would pull me into hidden rooms and dark corners and do...things. At first, he would just say crude, *awful* things and...touch me."

She swallows tightly, taking a deep breath. "Then, during one of the group camping events, Lucas cornered me in my tent and—” Her voice wavers. Her next breath seems to rattle her entire body. “He *raped* me. I said no. I begged him to stop. He didn’t. He gagged me so no one would hear me scream.”

I go deathly still.

“Afterwards, he was…annoyed. He said he’d been trying something new, and I’d disappointed him somehow. Like I’d failed a test.”

She sniffs. “I told Valerie St Claire, who I thought was my friend. I thought she’d help. But she told me to stay quiet. She said if I made a fuss, I’d ruin my future. She said it would make Lucas look bad. She said I’d be hurting the Ashford reputation.”

Gracie’s face crumples. The camera shakes slightly, as if the person recording it is also crying.

“I had to leave the Estate with this burden. I’ve watched them smile and pose and act like nothing happened. I watched Lucas act like a prince. But he’s not. He’s a monster. And I won’t be quiet anymore.”

The video ends.

For a second, no one breathes.

Then Killian swears loudly.

“This just blew the case wide open,” he mutters, grabbing his phone.

Lara’s face is unreadable. Julian looks sick. I feel like I’m vibrating inside my own skin.

It hadn’t just been me. Lucas had set his sights on other contestants.

I'd been *lucky.*

“This isn’t just a scandal anymore,” I say quietly. “It’s a catastrophe.”

Lara’s voice is as sharp and hard as ice. “Good.”