All Chapters of From my Bully to CEO: Chapter 71 - Chapter 80

PAST SELENE’S POV: I barged into the swim room where I was told by multiple sources that I would find Maya. And, like every other room I stumbled into at Crescent High, I had to stop for a second just to take it all in. The space buzzed with noise—laughter, chatter, the rhythmic splash of water—as the swim team girls moved about, their voices bouncing off the tiled walls. The pool dominated the room, a vast stretch of dark blue water rippling under the constant motion of practiced strokes. Then I looked up and a gasp escaped my lips. The ceiling arched high above, entirely made of glass panels that let sunlight pour in, flooding the room with a soft, angelic golden glow. Rich people and their ridiculous designs, I thought. Even if a part of me was utterly jealous that we didn’t have this in our boring public school back in LA. I would’ve never left the room and maybe the room alone might’ve inspired my team to actually bag a few trophies. The bleachers along one wall were stack

PASTGRAYSON’S POV:I didn’t remember the name of the girl I bought into my room. I hadn’t even looked at her long enough to register what she looked like.In my head, she had wide, fierce brown eyes and hair that curled cascading down her shoulder. In my head, the girl had a mouth that always got her in trouble and a mind that just wouldn’t quiet down. In my head, the girl was Selene and I hated every time the not-Selene whispered, “Gray” because it reminded me that she wasn’t actually her.Her fingers fumbled with the buttons of my shirt and I helped her take it off, discarding it onto the floor. She groaned, tugging at my neck like she could make it stop by dragging me back down to her. I obliged, kissing her neck as I pushed her dress down until it was bunched around her waist.My gaze drifted past her shoulder, unfocused, until it snagged on the window across the room. And then everything stopped.Selene.She was in the garage below—pressed up against Sam, her hands fisted in his

PASTGRAYSON’S POV:I stopped counting the hours till morning and had just gotten comfortable on the floor.I wasn’t sure how long I stayed here but I knew it had been long enough, considering the painful crick in my neck and the stiffness in my back.The blackout blinds didn’t help. My room had no hint of morning, just silence and the steady rhythm of Selene’s breathing from the bed.I stared up at the ceiling, one arm tucked under my head, waiting for Selene to wake up or for my mind to finally quiet down.Neither seemed likely.Because every time I closed my eyes, I saw her head lolling forward, pupils wide, breath uneven. The image had burned itself into the back of my skull, keeping me awake.As if my thoughts had manifested themselves, I heard the soft rustle of the sheets. And then a soft, sleepy kind of moan. The kind that made the air in my lungs still for a beat too long. I forced a slow breath out through my nose.Another quiet sound escaped her, this one lower. A small, fr

PASTGRAYSON’S POV:It was three in the afternoon when I finally checked my phone.My eyes widened. The blinds were still down, drowning the room in that false, middle-of-the-night darkness.Selene had been here for over seven hours. Seven hours, and I didn't even notice the time slipping by. We didn’t step outside the room once. Just talked. About nothing and everything. Ate in here. Threw jabs at each other until they turned into laughter. She told me stories about her life in LA, things I never thought I would care to know but somehow, I did.Seven hours. I still couldn’t wrap my head around it.A small smile tugged at my mouth when my eyes landed on the mug she used, still sitting on my bedside table.She teased me relentlessly when the food arrived. I shot back that Beverly Manor must run the same way. She paused for a heartbeat, then laughed, said she wasn’t used to having a full staff yet, and that, despite it, she never had food brought to her room like some “entitled asshole

Past Selene's Pov I had a plan and even though Maya had warned me that day on the secret stairway that challenging Grayson Vexley would never end well but after what he’d done to my project, I couldn’t care less. Before he could say anything else, the beaker hissed louder. We both turned. The solution inside was foaming, climbing the glass like it wanted to escape. “Shit,” I muttered. “It’s going to overflow.” Grayson was already moving. “It’s reacting too fast. We used too much H₂O₂.” I grabbed the sodium bicarbonate. “We can buffer it - slow the reaction.” “Won’t work. The solution’s too acidic. Look at the color shift.” “It’s not the pH, it’s the rate.” I twisted the cap open. “Bicarb will still neutralize some of the reactive oxygen.” He hesitated, then passed me the stirring rod. I ignored the way his fingers brushed mine - barely a graze, but enough to make my pulse jump in irritation more than anything else. I stirred. The hissing dulled, foam settling.