Chapter 3

"Dr. Henderson just published your paper on semantic segmentation."

Lucas Sterling sent me a Snapchat message with a link.

I clicked it.

*A Study on Semantic Segmentation Algorithms Based on Multimodal Feature Fusion.*

First Author: Evelyn Ward.

Second Author: Marcus Henderson.

Corresponding Author: Marcus Henderson.

My name was nowhere to be found.

My phone buzzed again. Another message from Lucas: *What are you going to do now?*

I didn't reply.

I finished applying the screen protector and pocketed the ten dollars.

Later that night, I went to the university’s Academic Integrity Portal. I attached my original code logs and local version control screenshots, spending two hours drafting a formal report of academic theft.

Three days later, I received an automated reply: *Your report has been received and forwarded to the relevant department for review.*

Another five days passed. Nothing.

I finally called the Academic Integrity Board office.

"Report ID: IB20241028-007."

"One moment... Ah, yes. This case has been forwarded back to your department for internal review."

"Which department?"

"The Department of Computer Science and Engineering. Your college’s academic committee is handling it."

The head of that committee? Dean Arthur Montgomery.

I closed the browser tab.

Around 9:00 PM, the foot traffic under the overpass thinned out.

A pair of designer high heels stopped in front of my folding table.

Evelyn. She wore a chic beige trench coat and flawless makeup—looking like a completely different person from the weeping victim at the hearing.

"Long time no see," she said, crouching down to meet my eyes.

"Need a screen protector?"

She smirked, pulling an envelope from her designer bag and tossing it onto my table.

"Dr. Henderson asked me to deliver this."

It was a settlement agreement. Party A: Marcus Henderson. Party B: Chloe Vance.

The terms: *Party B admits to acting out of emotional instability, displaying a fabricated AI-deepfake video that caused severe reputational damage to Party A and Evelyn Ward. Party B voluntarily withdraws all complaints and agrees to issue a public apology.*

The compensation: *Party A will pay Party B $8,000 for mental distress and assist in transferring her to another university.*

"Eight grand?"

"It's a lot of money for someone like you," she said, tilting her head. "How much do you make here? A hundred bucks a day? Two hundred? This money is more than you can make in a year of manual labor."

"You put your name as first author on my paper."

She blinked, unfazed.

"The research was done using lab resources. Co-author assignment is the advisor's right."

"I wrote every single line of that code. I ran those simulations for months."

"And you did it using our lab’s servers," she said, standing up and brushing the dust off her knees. "Chloe, you're suspended. Even if your name were on it, what good would it do you now?"

She pulled out her phone and showed me a photo.

It was a formal cease-and-desist letter from a lawyer. The words *criminal prosecution* and *civil damages* were printed in bold.

"Chloe, look at yourself. What did you actually achieve by fighting?" She leaned in, her voice hushed, sounding almost sympathetic. "Suspension, losing your degree, sleeping on the streets. Was it worth it?"

I stared at her face.

"What did *you* get out of this?" I asked quietly.

Her smile faltered for a fraction of a second.

"What did you have to give him to get your name on that paper? Co-authorship? Funding? What else?"

"You—"

"You do know you’re not the first one, right?"

It was a shot in the dark. But her pupils dilated instantly, caught clearly in the glow of the streetlights.

Her lips parted, but she quickly pulled her expression back together.

"If you don't sign this within three days, the lawsuit papers will be served to your parents' house."

The click-clack of her high heels faded into the distance.

I folded the agreement and shoved it into the bottom of my toolbox.

My phone screen lit up. An unsaved number.

"Are you the girl who played that security footage during the lab meeting?"

"Who is this?"

The typing bubble bounced for a long time.

"My name is Claire Hayes. Five years ago, Marcus Henderson was my advisor, too."