Born Into Villain's Family: I Have a 200\% Rebate System-Chapter 225: Video

Deep down, Aurora understood exactly what had broken Ava — it wasn’t just temptation. It was the crushing pressure of reality.

Money.

People said money couldn’t buy happiness, but they were wrong. Money was happiness when you had none. Money bought safety, dignity, even basic survival.

Aurora had seen what a lack of it could do to people — twist them, warp them, drive them to desperate decisions. In that way, she didn’t hate Ava. She understood her.

But understanding didn’t mean forgiveness.

Because Ava hadn’t just made a mistake. She’d chosen to cross a line, to betray someone who had trusted her completely — someone who had loved her.

And no amount of regret could rewind that moment or erase the damage it caused.

So Aurora said nothing of that to Mia.

Instead, she smirked a little, reaching out to gently poke Mia’s cheek.

"So," she said playfully, her voice suddenly lighter, "does my pretty baby still wanna go on that date? Or are we standing here getting emotional all day?"

Mia blinked at her, caught off guard, then let out a small laugh, short, but real. She rolled her eyes, but the sadness in them faded a little. "You’re unbelievable," she said again, a little softer this time.

"I know," Aurora replied proudly, looping her arm through Mia’s again with a playful swing of her hip. "But I’m also charming, rich, and apparently your fake girlfriend now. So technically, I’m winning."

Mia chuckled.

What they didn’t know was that someone was recording their entire conversation.

..........................

The next day.

The sun filtered softly through the classroom windows, casting long beams across the rows of desks.

Aurora stepped in, her usual confident stride faltering for just a second when she glanced toward Spencer’s seat.

Empty.

She blinked. Weird.

Spencer was never late. In fact, he was always the first to arrive, waiting with a goofy grin and a warm breakfast on her desk, like it was some unspoken tradition between them.

Her eyes swept the room, half-expecting him to pop out from behind the door or from under a desk with some stupid joke. But there was no sign of him. No bag on his seat. No football. No Spencer.

Still, when she reached her own desk, she found a familiar white bag sitting neatly at the corner — a breakfast sandwich and a small smoothie with her name scribbled in Sharpie on the cup.

She frowned.

Okay... so he was here.

Maybe he just stepped out for a minute? The bathroom? The gym?

Shrugging it off, she sat down and opened the bag, her fingers tugging at the crinkled wrapper as the classroom slowly filled with chatter and students.

But even after the bell rang and the teacher began the lesson, Spencer never returned.

By the time the class ended, Aurora’s heart was beating a little faster than before.

She pulled out her phone and tapped his contact. The phone rang twice before he picked up.

"Hey," she said, trying to sound casual. "Where are you? Don’t tell me you’re skipping class to practice for the homecoming game or something."

There was a pause.

Then Spencer’s voice came through, low and strangely cold. "No. I’m not practicing."

Aurora’s eyebrows knit together. "Okay... so where are you?"

Another pause. A longer one.

Then, his voice came back, still cold. "I’m angry."

Aurora blinked, sitting up straighter in her chair. "What? Why?"

"You really wanna know?" Spencer said, his voice sharp. "Meet me in Room 10. Now."

The line went dead.

Aurora stared at her phone for a few seconds, her stomach twisting. That wasn’t like him. Spencer was warm, dorky, and loyal. Always smiling. Always joking.

But the voice she’d just heard? That voice was tight. Angry. Hurt.

Something was definitely wrong.

Grabbing her bag, Aurora stood up and made her way out of the classroom.

The hallway was eerily silent, the kind of quiet that made her feel like something was wrong, and she hated that feeling. Still, she brushed it off and placed her hand on the doorknob.

"Spencer’s probably just being dramatic again," she muttered to herself, rolling her eyes slightly.

"Maybe he lost another online game and needs me to baby him."

But the moment she stepped inside, the air shifted.

The room was brightly lit, whiteboards clean, chairs stacked to the side, completely empty.

Before she could say anything or even take a proper step in, she heard the click of the door behind her.

It had locked.

Aurora spun around fast, her heart kicking up a notch. Her first instinct was alert, not fear exactly, but a sudden wariness.

She scanned the room quickly, tense, her hand still near the doorknob. And then...

Spencer.

He was standing by the door, not even trying to hide his presence. His expression was blank, but his eyes were sharp, almost cutting.

Aurora blinked, then relaxed slightly when she recognized him. "God, Spencer," she exhaled, letting out a soft laugh as she placed a hand on her chest.

"You scared me for a second. What is this, a murder mystery club meeting? Why’d you lock the door? Aren’t you behaving like a lawless canary, right now?"

Spencer didn’t smile.

He just stared.

And then he said, almost bitterly, "You do remember I’m your canary, right?"

Aurora blinked, frowning. "What are you even talking about?"

Spencer didn’t look away. His jaw tightened. "I got a video last night."

Aurora tilted her head, trying to understand. "A video? What kind of video?"

Without a word, Spencer pulled out his phone, tapped around for a second, and held it up.

The screen lit up.

Aurora saw herself and Mia. Their conversation from yesterday. The teasing, the way she’d poked Mia’s cheek. Her smirking, calling Mia babe. The light laugh that followed. The way Mia had looked at her — surprised, but soft.

Aurora’s lips parted. She chuckled, slightly confused. "Wait, who sent you this? And why? This is so creepy—"

But Spencer didn’t laugh with her.

"This isn’t a joke, Aurora," he said, voice flat. "It didn’t feel like a joke. Not to me."

Aurora looked at him, the smile fading from her face.

Spencer lowered the phone, his hand clenching it at his side. "I didn’t like it," he said firmly.

"The way you looked at her. The way she looked at you. The way you called her babe. That’s... that’s not okay."

Aurora raised an eyebrow, stunned. "Spencer, it was just a joke. I literally said it to cheer her up. It wasn’t serious."

"I don’t care," Spencer said. "You don’t call other people that. Not like that. Not unless it means something."

Aurora opened her mouth to respond, but Spencer wasn’t done.

"Only I should be called that," he said, softer this time, but still with that strange, intense edge.

"Only me. Unless it’s your family or something. But not her."

Aurora stared at him, eyes widening. "Spencer..." she said slowly,

"Do you even hear how possessive that sounds? You’re not my boyfriend. You don’t own me. At most you are my canary."

The words slipped out before she could stop them. Her tone was defensive, maybe even a little sharp — but underneath it, she felt a flicker of guilt. She didn’t want to hurt him. Not really.

But his expression cracked.

Spencer looked down at the floor, lips pressed together. When he spoke again, his voice was quieter.

"I didn’t sleep last night," he admitted.

"I just kept watching that video over and over. Wondering what it meant. I wonder if you were slipping away, and I didn’t even see it happening."

His eyes flicked up to hers, and then, gently, he reached for her hand.

Aurora stiffened.

"I was scared," he whispered.

"I was scared that someone would take you from me. That I’d lose you without even getting the chance to—" He stopped, breathing shallow.

"To matter."

Aurora’s heart beat faster. Something about his words — the way he was looking at her — made her chest tighten in the worst way. Like something was closing in.

She slowly pulled her hand back.

"Spencer," she said carefully, "why are you acting like this? You’re... you’re not usually like this. This is desperate. It’s not you."

He opened his mouth, then shut it, like he was trying to hold something back. But whatever wall he had crumbled in the next breath.

"I can’t live without you."

Aurora froze.

Spencer’s eyes were wild, pleading now.

"Please, Aurora," he said, stepping closer. "Don’t be with her. Don’t date Mia. Don’t date anyone. Just stay with me. I’ll do anything. I’ll beg, if that’s what it takes."

Her breath caught.

Panic bloomed in her chest. The Spencer she knew — the dorky, loyal, sunshine-boy Spencer — had vanished. And in his place was someone raw and shaken, unraveling right in front of her.

"Spencer..." she whispered, backing up a step. "You’re scaring me."

Spencer stiffened and immediately backed away from her.

"I am sorry... I... did... I scare you? I will stay away." And with that, he left.

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