Winning the Heir Who Bullied Me Chapter 74

Just as we’re about to drive out of the gates, the car comes to a stop, the engine idling.

June and I exchange a confused glance.

I lean toward the partition separating us from the driver and say, “Excuse me? Is there a problem?”

The driver doesn’t answer, but almost immediately, the car starts to move again.

*Reversing.*

June frowns as my heart starts to race. “What’s going on, Spring?” my sister asks. “Are we going back?”

I swallow, feeling hesitantly giddy. “I—I think so.”

“Why?”

I quickly reach for my phone. I haven’t yet turned it on since it was returned, but now I do, and the seconds it takes to come on feel like an eternity.

Finally, when the screen lights up, I ignore the backlog of messages, notifications, and emails swarming in and go straight to X.

My hands shaking, I type the hashtag Peter came up with into the search bar.

“Oh God,” I whisper when results come up.

*A Cinderella Story Cut Short*

*Despite her early spark with Lucas Ashford, intriguing moments with Nathan Ashford, and widespread public support, April Farrah has reportedly been eliminated from the Ashford bride selection. Many are left stunned, calling it a heartbreaking and unfair end to what could’ve been the most genuine—and dramatic—love story. Many have taken to social media, advocating for April to stay in the competition with the trending hashtag #KeepApril.*

***You can't seriously eliminate the MVP of the competition. #KeepApril***

***Oh, come on! Don't ruin my Cinderella fantasy just like that. #KeepApril***

***Sure, eliminate the broke girl. I thought the Ashfords said they didn’t care about background? #KeepApril***

***I really wanted April to win. If she’s out, then I’m checking out of this dumbass competition. #KeepApril***

***This is proof that this 'selection' is more politics than romance. Heartbroken. #KeepApril***

***Hey, I already placed bets on who I thought she’d bag. You can’t eliminate her #KeepApril***

***This competition just got boring. #KeepApril***

***We all knew the rich, influential girls would win anyway. Let’s be honest, she never stood a chance. #KeepApril***

***God forbid an Ashford heir marries a girl from a poor background. They were trolling us all along. #KeepApril***

***Fuck this competition***

“What’s that?” June asks, leaning closer to peer over my shoulder.

My throat feels tight. When Peter said we were going to start an online rally, I thought he was stretching. But then he’d assured me that his family was a slave to public opinion, and one ‘leaked’ post on his fake Instagram and X accounts about my elimination would make them bow under the weight of the public’s disapproval.

I believed the Ashfords would be affected by the public’s opinion, but I didn’t think the public would care so much about my elimination.

“Spring?” June presses.

I exhale, turning off my phone. “I’m not sure yet,” I say, buzzing with that nervous energy. “Let’s just see why we’re going back, huh?”

I don’t want to give my sister false hope. It’ll only make me feel more awful if I’m wrong.

Finally, we arrive in front of the Ashford mansion where we just left. Lucy and Jessica, along with Rachel and Gracie’s maids, wait at the steps for us.

The driver opens the door for June and me to alight.

Lucy presses her hands tightly together as she dances giddily on the balls of her feet while Jessica tries her hardest to suppress a smile.

The driver brings out our luggage from the trunk, and Jessica and Lucy finally move, heading for our bags.

“What’s going on?” I ask, the returning hope blossoming in my chest.

Jessica finally smiles. “There’s a meeting in the ballroom.” She winks. “You should hurry.”

June turns to me, wide-eyed. “Are—are we staying?”

I squeeze her hand. “I think so,” I answer.

The other contestants are already in the ballroom when the four of us walk in. They turn to us, looking just as confused as we are.

My eyes catch Eliza’s, and I give her a small smile, which she enthusiastically returns.

“Hurry up; come closer and join your peers,” Easton says impatiently. His hands are held firmly behind him, and his face is tight. He’s obviously unhappy about whatever message he’s about to convey.

He clears his throat before continuing. “Now, in light of the previous eliminations, the Ashford heirs have decided that maybe they were too…harsh with the eliminated contestants.”

A slight murmur rises, and I tighten my grip on June’s hand, holding my breath.

“So, the most recent eliminations are cancelled. Rachel, April, Gracie”—he looks at each of us like we’ve gravely offended him—“you will be staying.”

I exhale heavily, and it takes all my strength not to sink to the floor in relief.

The murmurs increase, and I can see that the girls are confused. Without their phones, they don’t have access to the outside world like I’ve had—except maybe Rachel and Gracie—and unless they use their maids’ phones like I sometimes do, they won't know that it’s all because of me.

Because of Peter, that incredible genius, who is *so* getting a statue erected in his honor.

Eliza breaks from the crowd and rushes to me, throwing her arms around my neck.

I catch her around the waist, laughing. “I can’t believe you get to stay!”

“I can’t believe it either!”

I pull away and turn to June. “Are you happy?”

My sister beams, nodding.

“Okay, okay!” Easton claps, catching everyone’s attention. “There’s more. We’re continuing with the next part of the competition, so—”

“I’m leaving.”

All heads in the ballroom turn—toward Gracie.

She’s still standing at the entrance, her arms folded, her feet set apart in a defensive stance. Like she’s bracing herself for an attack.

“Excuse me?” Easton says.

“I’m leaving.” Gracie repeats, her voice hard.

He scoffs incredulously. “I don’t think you heard me quite right, Miss Storm. The eliminations are cancelled—you’re allowed to stay.”

She lets out a bark of bitter laughter. “Oh, I heard you all right. Heard you loud and fucking clear.”

Easton’s jaw clenches. “Language.”

Gracie scoffs. “Or what? You’ll eliminate me?”

“Now listen here—”

“Save your breath. If I spend one more second in this mansion of horrors, I’ll kill myself.” She cocks her head and smirks. “Wonder how you’ll spin that narrative. Hashtag Revive Gracie?”

So, *she* definitely saw the hashtags.

“Gracie,” Valerie says, approaching her former minion like one would approach a wounded lion. “What’s going? Don’t you want to keep going?”

Gracie’s eyes harden with a hatred that shocks me.

“Take one more step towards me, bitch, and I’ll bitch slap you so hard, your head will spin three-sixty degrees.”

Valerie freezes in her steps.

“Gracie!” she gasps.

“Shut the fuck up!” Gracie screams. “If I have to hear your whiny fucking voice say one more inane, brainless thing, I’ll cut your tongue out!”

“Miss Storm, that is enough!” Easton’s voice thunders through the room.

She glares at him and sticks up her middle finger.

“Fuck you,” she spits. “Fuck you and your rules. Fuck this mansion and all it’s hidden corners. Fuck the Ashfords. Fuck Nathan and Peter and—times one fucking billion—*fuck* *Lucas!*”

Her gaze shifts to Valerie, and she points at the shocked girl. “But most of all, fuck you. You were supposed to be my friend, but you’re just a two-faced *coward.*”

No one in the room moves, all of us stunned to paralyses.

With a wide, sardonic smile, Gracie gives a dramatic low bow, her long blonde hair brushing the marble floor. Then she spins on her heels and walks out of the grand doors, leaving deafening silence in her wake.