Chapter Fourteen: The Betrayal File
Alora stared at the flash drive in her palm like it was a ticking bomb.
The handwriting on the note was unmistakable.
Neat. Sharp. Cold.
Reina's.
Elijah sat on the couch across from her, his laptop open and ready.
"Are you sure you want to see this?" he asked gently.
"No," Alora said honestly. "But I can't lead a movement if I'm too afraid to look at the truth."
She plugged in the flash drive.
Clicked the only file inside:
Phoenix_Proof.mp4
The screen filled with grainy footage.
A recording.
Reina. Sitting on a floor, her back against a concrete wall, hood pulled over her head. She looked older. Thinner. Her eyes were cold.
She began speaking.
> "So this is for the world. For everyone who thinks Alora Jordan is some angel reborn. She left me behind. Took my words. Took our blog. And now she's rich. Polished. Quoted like she invented pain."
Alora's breath caught in her throat.
Reina laughed bitterly.
> "She was never the only phoenix. We both bled for those stories. I helped her write the first three posts. I helped name the damn blog. Then one day, she just stopped mentioning me. Stopped calling. Stopped… remembering."
Elijah's face twisted in disbelief.
> "She made it out. I didn't. Because while she was being invited to galas, I was still hiding under benches from old boyfriends looking to break my ribs again. While she was being called 'inspirational,' I was applying for shelter bed lists and getting denied."
Reina's voice turned sharp.
> "This isn't about jealousy. It's about truth. Alora's truth isn't hers alone."
The video ended. The screen went black.
Alora sat frozen, fists clenched, eyes swimming.
She remembered Reina — the girl who once stole soup cans for her. Who stayed up editing Alora's writing late into the night. Who cried the day they bought a shared journal and promised to write together.
"I never meant to leave her," Alora whispered.
Elijah sat beside her. "What happened?"
"She disappeared. One day she was there. Next day — gone. No goodbye. No warning. I looked for her… for months. The shelters said she transferred to another city. I thought she was safe. I thought she wanted distance."
"Did you ever credit her for the early work?" he asked carefully.
Alora closed her eyes. Shame clamped around her throat.
"No," she whispered. "I got caught up. In growth. In survival. In proving myself. And I… I forgot who helped me build the first bricks."
---
That night, Alora didn't sleep. Instead, she opened her blog and wrote a new post. Raw. Transparent. Exposed.
> "To the Girl I Left Behind"
I owe you everything.
The first three posts. The courage to speak. The borrowed words.
I didn't mean to leave you out.
I was surviving. I was moving so fast, I didn't look back.
But you mattered.
You still do.
You are a phoenix, too.
And this movement is yours, as much as it is mine.
I'm sorry.
But I'm here now — not to erase the past,
but to share the stage.
If you're reading this…
Meet me. Face to face.
Let's finish what we started. Together.
---
The post broke the internet.
Some praised her vulnerability.
Some called her manipulative.
But Reina responded.
A single comment, posted anonymously at first, but later verified:
> "One meeting. One chance. Tomorrow. Same bench. 8 p.m."