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twenty-six.
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Hated By The Bully King one.
CoraThis isn’t a house. It’s a palace.As I weave through the plethora of guests, balancing a tray on my palm and offering hors d’oeuvres I can’t even pronounce, my gaze roams around the ballroom. My mouth practically reaches the floor, my brain trying to comprehend that people actually live this way.Chandeliers are suspended from the ceiling, their crystals sparkling across the walls and bouncing off the expensive jewelry on the guests. The marble floor is so polished I can practically see my reflection. The tables are set with crisp white, elegant tablecloths, the dishes and utensils glittering, and the guests are dressed in their finest.We’ve catered to the wealthy before, but this is a whole other ball game.And the guest of honor? None other than sixteen-year-old Alessandro Beckham, the sole heir to the Beckham Empire. His dad is Asher Beckham, the richest man alive. He owns practically the whole world, no joke. From hotel chains to tech companies, sports teams, international
Hated By The Bully King two.
CoraUgh, why do I feel like I was run over by a train? The whole left side of my body throbs.My eyes flash open when it hits me. Alessandro Beckham’s party last night. The shooter. Alessandro nearly getting killed. My tackling him to the floor. His ungrateful behavior toward me.It’s not like I saved his life or anything. Whatever.Groaning through the pain, I swing my legs over the side of my bed and stuff my feet into my slippers. Voices from outside carry into my open window, and when I wobble over and pull the curtain aside, I see a crowd gathered around my house. Cameramen and reporters.“What…the hell?”I rub my eyes. Nope, they’re still there.My door bursts open and Mom rushes inside. “Cora, get dressed and come to the living room. Quickly.”“What’s going on?”“Get dressed. Now.”“Why—”She slams the door after her.“Seriously, what on Earth?” I open the door and peek out, straining my ears. There’s a strange voice in the living room. Another reporter? Does this have anythin
Hated By The Bully King three.
CoraThose academy gates I’ve been looking forward to meeting smile at me from a distance, the words “Royal Elite Academy” glimmering in golden letters. Mr. Beckham sent a limo to fetch me, and even after riding in it for over two hours, I still can’t get over it. We passed through some of the richest towns in Georgia, and as we draw closer to the building, I notice a massive forest behind it. It makes the school look even more beautiful. I’m practically bouncing in my seat as the driver pulls up to the gate and stops before the security booth.The driver rolls down the windows. “Miss Cora Williams.” He gestures to me.The guard walks around to the back of the limo and peeks at me. He stretches his hand. “Your identification card, miss?”Identification card? Oh, right. I rummage in my jacket pocket and retrieve the school ID that arrived via mail several days ago. I hand it to the guy, who scans it, then me, and the card again. After giving me a slight nod, he passes it to me. “You ma
Hated By The Bully King four.
CoraA few girls turn their heads in my direction and get that disgusted face that girl Heather showered me with only an hour ago. But most of them pretend I don’t exist. They all file into the auditorium and choose seats toward the back, leaving a few free seats sprinkled around. I choose one toward the middle of the back, having no choice but to squeeze past other students’ feet, eliciting frustrated groans.With a huff, I lower myself in my seat and lean back. The girl next to me, pretty, tall, with strawberry blond hair, twists her body to look at me.“Hey,” I say, stretching out a hand. “I’m Cora Williams.”Her gaze drops to my hand and her nose twists as though maggots are attached to my skin. She, too, gives me a quick sweep and doesn’t like what she finds. I’m about to pop a blood vessel, when I finally realize the difference between their uniforms and mine. Theirs is crisp, neatly pressed, and look like a million bucks. Mine? Well, it definitely doesn’t match up. I don’t unde
Hated By The Bully King five.
CoraLying in bed with my stuffed camel squeezed to my chest, I try not to let what happed in the cafeteria consume me. But of course it’s the only thing I can think about. Spoiled, rotten little bullies. Who the hell do they think they are? Just because they have money, they think they rule the world? That they can step on anyone they want and treat people like dirt?I knew asshole Alessandro Beckham was behind it all. I freakin’ saved his life. And this is how he repays me?It’s clear I won’t have any allies in this school. Even my guide Sam turned her back on me.There’s supposed to be entertainment right now, a famous band and dancing. There’s no way I can bring myself over there. I don’t need to subject myself to any more humiliation. I don’t know how I’ll get through my days here.Sweeping up my phone, I video chat my parents.“Cora!” Mom’s bright face comes into view, and my whole body deflates with relief. I don’t think I’ve ever been this happy to see her. “Marcus!” she calls
Hated By The Bully King six.
CoraGathering my things, I pull myself out of the chair and make way to the only remaining desk in the first row. My knees are so wobbly I'm worried they'll give and I'll topple to the floor. My butt finally plants itself on the seat and I keep my eyes on the board, every part of me now beating with rage. How dare he?"Did you forget something?" a voice I don't recognize says, and a second later something smacks me in the head and splats on the floor near my shoe. My novel. I twist my head to glare at the person who chucked it. He's sitting behind Alessandro. I have no idea who he is, but I've definitely seen him hanging around the Princes. Maybe a wanna-be Prince? I narrow my eyes. "That's a library book.""So?""Don't you have any respect?""Don't you have any respect?" a girl on his right mimics in a high-pitch voice, causing some of the other students to snicker."Who goes to a library anyway?" another guy says."Poor people who can't afford to buy books."I dust off the book and
Hated By The Bully King seven.
CoraWhile in the middle of splitting my brain open during the murderous pre-calculus homework, my phone rings. I pluck it off the desk like it's my life savior and scan the screen, nearly crying out in glee when I see it's my best friend, Elissa."Bestie!" I yell."Bestie!" she yells back."Why aren't we on video chat? I'm dying to see your pretty face.""Same, hun, but my phone's broken.""Again," we both say and laugh. She drops the thing so many times, I'm surprised her parents replace them. "Don't freak if the call drops. I think this one has only moments to live."There's a large pang in my chest. I've missed her so much, and it's only been two days. Hearing her voice is like a bright light in a cold, dark tunnel. It uplifts my mood that's been shitty since first period."Your face is still plastered all over the news," she says. "Your interview has so many hits, you're more famous than the queen of England.""Ha.""I'm serious. People love hearing how you saved the handsome fut
Hated By The Bully King eight.
CoraTwo weeks have gone by. Two weeks of me burying my head in my textbooks and staying on top of my grades. I guess now that I have no friends, it’s easy to immerse myself in nothing but schoolwork. The results have been amazing.As for the bullying? Nothing major. Alessandro hasn’t said a single word to me since that first day in pre-calculus, though he throws me dirty looks any chance he can. The other students have been picking on me with minor things, like trying to trip me in the halls, calling me Peasant Girl, sliding things into my locker and under my door. Notes like drawings of a poor girl working the farm or saying how I need to take a shower because I reek. The first time, I actually thought I did reek. I feel lonely, really lonely.Dad loves his job. Mr. Beckham has even made it his personal mission to make sure my dad is happy and that he has everything he needs. Some people at his job even walk on eggshells around him. Maybe I should save the lives of rich offspring mo
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