Chapter 129

Arabella quickly logged into her second backup account, "The Dancer," and pretended to engage with her first backup account, "Helen's Rival."

She typed, "Absolutely! If someone like Harrison, who sleeps through lectures, becomes the campus belle, it would be ridiculous. Arabella is still unmatched!"

Then she switched back to her main account, "Arabella Falcon," and posted:

"Everyone, let's not argue. I think Harrison is lovely. I'd be happy to pass the title of campus belle to her!"

Arabella was expertly managing three accounts, playing three different roles to control the narrative. Losing her status as Willowridge University's most beautiful girl wasn't an option.

As expected, her loyal followers—mostly awkward, devoted boys—flooded the comments.

One wrote, "Harrison is pretty, but Arabella deserves the title. She's in a league of her own!"

Another added, "Arabella is my goddess. No one could ever replace her."

A third chimed in, "I'll always stand by Arabella, no matter what!"

To the outside world, Arabella was the epitome of charm and allure, especially when she turned on her sweet, flirtatious act for male attention. Her ample curves ensured she never lacked admirers.

The Willowridge University forum gradually quieted, and the debate over the campus belle title faded. Clearly, Harrison, the so-called "God of Sleep," wasn’t worthy.

Arabella had successfully defended her crown.

Frustrated, she clenched her phone, her nails digging into her palm. Her manipulation of Julian Ashford had backfired spectacularly. Not only had she nearly lost her status, but Harrison had almost ruined everything.

It felt like she’d tripped over her own schemes—painful and humiliating.

Just then, her phone buzzed with a call from Isabella.

"Isabella," Arabella answered, forcing lightness into her voice.

Isabella’s excited voice crackled through the line. "Arabella! Any updates? Has Harrison been expelled yet? I can’t wait to tell Sebastian and the others—we’ll finally have a good laugh!"

Arabella exhaled sharply. "No, Isabella. Harrison is still here."

"What?!" Isabella’s shriek was sharp enough to make Arabella wince.

Before she could explain, a smooth, melodic voice cut in. "Arabella, I hate to disappoint you."

Arabella looked up to see Harrison standing there, a serene smile on her lips, Rosalind Fairchild at her side.

Without hesitation, Arabella ended the call and glared at Harrison, venom dripping from her voice. "Harrison, you don’t belong here. I will make sure you’re gone."

Harrison’s smile didn’t falter. "I look forward to seeing you try."

Arabella’s retort died in her throat as a tall, commanding figure approached—Nathaniel.

She seized his arm. "Nathaniel, you never should have brought her here!"

Nathaniel’s gaze flicked to Harrison, meeting her clear, unshaken eyes.

Just then, the sharp click of heels echoed through the hall.

"Mr. Falcon, Arabella is right," a crisp voice declared. "You never should have let Harrison step foot in Willowridge."

Harrison turned to see Penelope.

Gone was the disheveled woman from the banquet. Today, Penelope was polished—a sleek black dress hugging her figure, crystal heels glinting, confidence radiating from her.

Willowridge was Penelope’s alma mater, and her return sent whispers rippling through the crowd. As Dr. Sinclair’s protégée, her presence was electric.

Students immediately pulled out their phones, snapping pictures.

"Look! Penelope is back!"

"She spent two years abroad, assisting in groundbreaking surgeries. And now—she’s working with Dr. Sinclair!"

"The legendary Dr. Sinclair?!"

"The one and only!"

"Penelope is Willowridge’s pride!"