The Girl in the Hoodie is Mine Chapter 70: Ambers Is The Winner

Ella’s POV:

FUCK. Fucking red alert. They were onto . This was bad—really, really bad. Why, why did I ever think going to that party was a good idea? How stupid was I not to realize that the gown would give away? All this ti, I’d managed to blend in, stay low-key, keep my cover intact. But one stupid, ridiculously expensive dress, and suddenly I was like a spotlight on a dark stage.

How could I be so careless? I wasn’t even a "fashion girl"—I was a bike-riding, leather-jacket-wearing, keep-to-myself kind of girl. Sure, my dad would throw around his influence, insisting I show up to his parties to "represent the family," but he’d always let his assistant handle the details. And, of course, his assistant loved spending absurd amounts of money on gowns that could pay soone’s rent for a year.

At the ti, I hadn’t thought twice about it. I figured, fine, if they want to dress up, I’ll dress up, then I’ll be back to jeans and hoodies by the next morning. I an, it was just a dress, right? What harm could it do? I never even considered that people would recognize the brand, or that the other students at the party would know enough about designer clothes to put two and two together. I didn’t realize that by wearing that dress, I was practically announcing to the whole room, "Hey, I’m not just a waitress!"

I an, sure, I knew the dress was nicer than anything I’d normally wear, but I hadn’t thought it was that obvious. But, of course, leave it to Jason, Dylan, and Max—the three guys I’d been carefully avoiding attention from—to notice every damn detail. Now they were hovering around , throwing out little hints, asking questions with those smug, knowing looks, like they’d figured out so huge secret. And honestly, they weren’t wrong.

It made my blood boil. I’d worked so hard to stay under the radar, to keep my dad’s wealth and status out of my life here. All I wanted was to be seen as , not as so spoiled rich girl or a CEO’s daughter. But now, thanks to one fancy dress, it looked like my carefully constructed disguise was unraveling in front of my eyes.

In class, I could feel their stares, see their suspicious glances, like they were piecing it all together. And every ti I caught one of them looking at with that raised eyebrow or that smirk, I felt a surge of panic. The whole point of this school, this life I’d built, was to be normal, to be away from my dad’s world. But these three idiots were making it impossible.

What was worse was the way they were playing with , like they knew they were getting under my skin and were enjoying every second of it. They hadn’t outright confronted about the dress, but I knew they’d noticed it was out of place. Max with his constant teasing, Dylan with his intense, knowing stares, and Jason... Jason with his smirking, patient silence, like he was just waiting for to slip up.

I couldn’t let them win. I wasn’t about to give them the satisfaction of seeing squirm, even if inside I was freaking out. If they wanted answers, they’d have to work for them. I wasn’t going to let one night and one stupid gown ruin everything I’d worked so hard to protect.

Fine, they could throw their curious looks my way. Let them whisper and wonder. I would act as though nothing had happened. I’d stay calm, play it cool, and keep my head down. If they thought they were going to get to crack, they were in for a rude awakening.

I took a deep breath, straightening in my seat. No. I wasn’t going to let that happen. They could hover all they wanted, but I wasn’t going to let them break .

And I was absolutely, positively never wearing a gown like that again.

So, what else could I do? Ignore them. That was the only sane option left. The entire lunch period, I kept my head down, acting as if Jason, Dylan, and Max were nothing more than shadows in my periphery. They could throw their glances and smirks my way, but I wasn’t going to give them the satisfaction of acknowledging it. Let them wonder. Let them speculate. I had a plan, and it didn’t include wasting ti on the school’s three "golden boys" who seed to have made it their mission to unravel .

I focused on my food, reminding myself: just three more months. Three more months until graduation, and I’d be free of all this. I’d get my degree, leave this school behind, and start building my own empire. No one would know or care who my father was, or whether I once showed up to a party wearing a dress that could probably pay for soone’s entire year of tuition. I’d make my own na, by my own rules. And that was all that mattered.

Ignoring them was harder than it should’ve been, though. I could feel their stares, particularly Jason’s. Out of the corner of my eye, I caught his expression more than once—a slight smirk, that calculating gaze like he was piecing together so elaborate puzzle. And Dylan? He didn’t hide his curiosity as well as Jason did. Every ti I shifted my focus to my plate, I could practically feel his gaze flicker over , like he was waiting for to slip up and reveal so hidden secret.

Max was the most obvious of the three, tossing out his usual flirty, teasing remarks, trying to catch my attention. When I ignored him, he doubled down, trying to make laugh with exaggerated antics. But I held my ground. I wasn’t giving them a single inch. Not today.

As soon as I finished my lunch, I got up and left, not even glancing their way. No goodbyes, no acknowledgnt. I’d had enough of them, of their probing, of their silent judgnts. I didn’t owe them anything. They could watch walk away and stew in whatever theories they were cooking up.

I made my way to the library, feeling a slight sense of relief as I stepped into the quiet, calm space. The library was one of the few places on campus where I could escape all the noise—the whispers, the social gas, the incessant eyes watching my every move. Here, I could be alone with my thoughts, my work, and my plans for the future.

I found a corner table and spread out my books and laptop, diving into my assignnts. As I typed, I could feel the tension from lunch slowly lting away. This was where I thrived: working toward my goals, focusing on what mattered. The feeling of purpose, of knowing exactly where I wanted to go, fueled . I didn’t need anyone’s approval or attention. Just my own drive, my ambition.

My last class of the day lood, but that was fine—I still had ti. Ti to finish this assignnt, ti to lose myself in sothing aningful. And as I typed, I reminded myself that in just three months, I’d be out of here, free to start building a life that had nothing to do with my family’s na or wealth.

I groaned internally as I walked into my two-hour lecture. I chose my usual seat at the back, hoping for so peace, but apparently, peace wasn’t on the agenda today. The three jokers strolled in, and of course, one of them—Jason—plopped down right next to , while the other two, Dylan and Max, took the seats directly in front of us. It was like being flanked by a wall of unwanted attention. Great.

Just as I was settling in, the professor cleared his throat and addressed the class. "The results are in," he announced, his voice echoing through the lecture hall, "and the board has selected two candidates as finalists. The CEO of the sponsoring company will ultimately pick the winner."

A murmur of excitent buzzed through the room as everyone’s eyes shifted, almost instinctively, to Jason. Now that the whole school knew he was the CEO of LBJ, they seed to view him with a new level of awe, which only made his smirk deepen. He leaned back, completely unfazed, while the rest of us waited for the nas to be announced.

The professor glanced at his notes, then continued, "The finalists are Ella Kingsley and Amber Prescott."

Instantly, all eyes swiveled back to , like a collective tidal wave of suspicion and gossip. I could see it in their expressions—the judgnt, the assumptions. They looked at , then at Jason sitting right next to , and then back at again, as if all the dots were suddenly connecting in their minds. To them, it all made sense now: Jason would obviously pick , the girl he’d taken a "special interest" in.

My heart sank, and my stomach twisted. I could already hear the whispers forming in the corners of the room. To them, this was nothing but a textbook case of "favoritism," of the CEO favoring the girl he was "interested" in. Never mind my qualifications, my hard work, or the hours I’d put into this competition. In their eyes, I was already the girl who’d secured her place at the top by "charming" her way there.

This was not how I wanted my legacy to begin. I’d worked too hard to let my first big opportunity be overshadowed by whispers that I’d sohow "slept my way to the top." The thought made sick. I clenched my fists under the desk, steeling myself against the judgntal stares.

I wanted to snap back, to tell them all they didn’t know anything about , that they didn’t see the nights I’d spent working myself to exhaustion just to get a shot at this position. But I knew better than to engage; it would only add fuel to the fire.

Jason, of course, was unfazed by the attention. If anything, he looked like he was enjoying it. He leaned over slightly, whispering, "Congratulations, Ella. You earned it." His voice was smooth, low, as if he had no idea of the implications his words carried—or maybe he just didn’t care.

I turned to him, my voice barely above a whisper. "Don’t. You know exactly what they’re thinking, Jason. This is the last thing I wanted."

Jason’s smirk softened, but he didn’t respond, only giving an enigmatic look before turning his attention back to the front of the room. anwhile, my mind was racing. How am I going to fix this? I wanted to win this competition based on my own rits, not because of so imagined connection to Jason.

I took a deep breath, feeling the weight of every eye in the room boring into . Jason was still watching , that unreadable look on his face, as if he was daring to make a move. All the whispers, the judgnts, the assumptions—it was all just too much. This was supposed to be my chance, my mont to prove myself, not so scandalous story for everyone to gossip about.

Without thinking twice, I stood up, my voice steady but loud enough for everyone to hear.

"Professor, I’m dropping out. No need for the CEO to choose a winner."

The gasps were imdiate, echoing around the room like a ripple of shock. I felt the tension, the disbelief, the confusion. Even the professor blinked at like I’d lost my mind. I could see it in his face—What on earth are you doing, Ella?

He recovered quickly, clearing his throat. "Well... if that’s your decision, then Amber Prescott will be the winner by default. I’ll inform the board."

I wasn’t going to win my first real opportunity on soone else’s terms. I’d make my own path, even if I had to start from scratch.