The Masked Campus Belle - Chapter 4: Chapter 4
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Before I could deal with Marcus Lowell again, another predator came knocking.
An anonymous WeChat account—no profile pic, no info—sent me a video. There I was in the storage room, Marcus playing me like his personal instrument.
The footage was carefully edited to show only me—my flushed face, my desperate movements—making it look like I was the one completely out of control.
Then the message:
[Who knew the campus sweetheart was such a freak in private?]
My face burned. Sure, I flirted sometimes, and yeah, I dressed a little risky on bad days when the hunger got unbearable—but I wasn't that girl. Everyone still saw me as innocent.
Watching that video made me want to vomit. If this leaked, I'd be a meme by lunchtime.
I fired back: [How much?]
The reply dripped with slime:
[You think this is about money? If this gets out, the school's reputation tanks. You get expelled. Play nice if you want to stay.]
Ice shot through my veins. Blackmail.
I collapsed in my dorm, shaking. When Sophia Langley walked in, the whole story spilled out.
"This is disgusting," she hissed. "Whoever did this is human garbage."
Only someone like her—someone who got it—would understand how violating this was.
"Tell Marcus," she said. "He's a teacher, and this started with him. Maybe he can fix it."
I called him, voice cracking.
Even Marcus sounded thrown. "We don't know who it is yet. Play along while we dig. Once we ID them, we nuke the video."
What choice did I have?
"I'll help track them," Marcus said. "Don't tip them off."
I messaged the creep:
[Fine! What do you want? Just don't leak it!]
Instant reply:
[Easy. Tomorrow's student rep speech. Shortest skirt—no underwear.]
My stomach dropped. The whole school would be watching. Faculty, too. One wrong move and I'd never live it down.
I nearly screamed into my phone, but Sophia grabbed my wrist.
"We've worn short skirts before. Just move carefully, keep the lining pressed flat. Right now, we stall."
I agreed, hands trembling.
Then came the next demand: proof photos.
I saw red.
Sophia's frown deepened. "They know about the speech. Has to be someone here—student… or teacher?"
Marcus texted soon after: blackmailer was on campus, but no ID yet.
"Watch for reactions during your speech," he said. "If it's a student, they might slip up."
I clenched my fists. I'd find them.
Next day, I obeyed—even sent the humiliating photo before stepping onstage.
Mid-speech, I scanned the crowd, but faces blurred together.
Too many eyes lingered on my skirt. My skin crawled.
Afterward, my advisor ripped into me:
"This is not appropriate for a school event! We have cameras everywhere—you're making us look trashy!"
That sparked an idea.
If there were cameras on the field… maybe they caught who planted the spy cam.
I played penitent, nodding meekly.
Later, Sophia sighed. "No gossip. Too much noise."
When I mentioned the cameras, she perked up.
"Security keeps all that footage!"
An anonymous WeChat account—no profile pic, no info—sent me a video. There I was in the storage room, Marcus playing me like his personal instrument.
The footage was carefully edited to show only me—my flushed face, my desperate movements—making it look like I was the one completely out of control.
Then the message:
[Who knew the campus sweetheart was such a freak in private?]
My face burned. Sure, I flirted sometimes, and yeah, I dressed a little risky on bad days when the hunger got unbearable—but I wasn't that girl. Everyone still saw me as innocent.
Watching that video made me want to vomit. If this leaked, I'd be a meme by lunchtime.
I fired back: [How much?]
The reply dripped with slime:
[You think this is about money? If this gets out, the school's reputation tanks. You get expelled. Play nice if you want to stay.]
Ice shot through my veins. Blackmail.
I collapsed in my dorm, shaking. When Sophia Langley walked in, the whole story spilled out.
"This is disgusting," she hissed. "Whoever did this is human garbage."
Only someone like her—someone who got it—would understand how violating this was.
"Tell Marcus," she said. "He's a teacher, and this started with him. Maybe he can fix it."
I called him, voice cracking.
Even Marcus sounded thrown. "We don't know who it is yet. Play along while we dig. Once we ID them, we nuke the video."
What choice did I have?
"I'll help track them," Marcus said. "Don't tip them off."
I messaged the creep:
[Fine! What do you want? Just don't leak it!]
Instant reply:
[Easy. Tomorrow's student rep speech. Shortest skirt—no underwear.]
My stomach dropped. The whole school would be watching. Faculty, too. One wrong move and I'd never live it down.
I nearly screamed into my phone, but Sophia grabbed my wrist.
"We've worn short skirts before. Just move carefully, keep the lining pressed flat. Right now, we stall."
I agreed, hands trembling.
Then came the next demand: proof photos.
I saw red.
Sophia's frown deepened. "They know about the speech. Has to be someone here—student… or teacher?"
Marcus texted soon after: blackmailer was on campus, but no ID yet.
"Watch for reactions during your speech," he said. "If it's a student, they might slip up."
I clenched my fists. I'd find them.
Next day, I obeyed—even sent the humiliating photo before stepping onstage.
Mid-speech, I scanned the crowd, but faces blurred together.
Too many eyes lingered on my skirt. My skin crawled.
Afterward, my advisor ripped into me:
"This is not appropriate for a school event! We have cameras everywhere—you're making us look trashy!"
That sparked an idea.
If there were cameras on the field… maybe they caught who planted the spy cam.
I played penitent, nodding meekly.
Later, Sophia sighed. "No gossip. Too much noise."
When I mentioned the cameras, she perked up.
"Security keeps all that footage!"
End of The Masked Campus Belle Chapter 4. Continue reading Chapter 5 or return to The Masked Campus Belle book page.