Chapter 4

Dean Miller's office was on the third floor. When I arrived, the door was cracked open, and she was seated behind her desk looking at her phone.

She looked up and gestured for me to sit.

"Did you see the class chat?"

"I did."

"Tell me what happened."

I sat up straight and recounted the entire event from start to finish.

Dean Miller stayed quiet for a few moments, observing me. "Do you have any proof?"

I paused.

"The coffee was hers. Her Apple Pay should have the receipt from the café outside the building."

Dean Miller nodded. Just as she was about to speak, the office door was thrown wide open.

Chloe stood in the doorway, her eyes red and puffy.

She shot me a venomous look, then rushed directly to Dean Miller’s desk, her voice breaking into theatrical sobs:

"Dean Miller, Harper is terrorizing me! She got our other two roommates to gang up on me and freeze me out!"

Me: "......"

With acting skills like that, she was in the wrong major.

Dean Miller frowned, clearly overwhelmed by the sudden outburst. "Calm down first. Sit down and speak properly."

Chloe collapsed into a chair, sniffling and wiping away tears.

"Dean Miller, you don't understand... Harper has targeted me since freshman year."

"Her family has money, so she looks down on people from small towns like me. She pretends to be nice, but she's always looking for ways to humiliate me."

"She was terrified I would do better than her in the interview, so right before we went in, she poured coffee all over my resume so I couldn't participate."

"When I confronted her, she threatened me in our room, saying she'd make sure I was kicked out of the program if I ever told anyone."

She broke into heavier sobs, her shoulders trembling pathetically.

"I didn't know what else to do, so I posted in the class chat."

I leaned back, watching her performance with a cold, expressionless face.

Dean Miller looked at her, then back at me. "Harper, what do you have to say?"

Before I could utter a word, Chloe cut in:

"What can she possibly say? Of course she'll deny it! That's who she is—two-faced! She plays the perfect angel in front of professors, but she's a monster behind closed doors!"

I couldn't help letting out a laugh.

"Chloe, are you finished?"

She glared at me, tears glistening on her cheeks, but a flicker of triumph showed in her eyes.

"If you're done, it's my turn."

I stood up, pulled out my phone, and opened a folder.

"Dean Miller, I have a few things I'd like you to see."

I handed her the phone.

The first was the chat history from our dorm SnapChat group last Wednesday.

I had clearly typed three times: "Remember to wear business formal for Tuesday's interview. Ladies, stick to a tailored dark suit. Keep it professional."

Chloe had replied underneath: "Got it!"

The second was the chat logs of me revising her resume.

She had sent me an initial mess of a draft, and I sent back three fully polished revisions. For every single one, she had replied with things like: "Harper, you're literally an angel!"

The third was a text she sent me the night before the interview:

"Harper, what time are you leaving tomorrow? Let’s go together."

After Dean Miller finished reading, I spoke calmly:

"If I was really worried about her outperforming me, why would I spend hours rewriting her entire resume?"