The footage was shot secretly, making it grainy, but I could still make out Bella in a wheelchair.
I instantly realized—this was from two years ago.
In the video, Bella was pouting.
“Adrian, I hate Layla. She stole my guaranteed graduate school admission, and she acts all high-and-mighty like some untouchable princess!”
“Just help me one more time, please—ruin her for me, okay?”
One of Adrian’s friends jumped in eagerly.
“Adrian, I’ve got something that’ll knock her out all night.”
Adrian shot him a sharp glare, instantly shutting everyone up.
“Bella, if you don’t like her, I can get her transferred to another school.”
Bella slammed her hands on the wheelchair armrests, her voice rising.
“Is this how you take care of me, after Mom told you to look after me before she died?!
If you won’t, I’ll find another man! Or I’ll just end it right now—nobody in this world loves me anymore!”
Adrian rubbed his temples, visibly tired.
“Fine. I’ll do it.”
The video cut off.
I typed out a reply to the sender—wanted to ask who they were, why they were helping me.
But in the end, I only sent two words: Thank you.
Anniversary Day.
Adrian wore a perfectly tailored suit.