Chapter 3

That recording worked wonders.

With a stiff, humiliated grin, Mr. Miller practically escorted me out of his office. By the next afternoon, he went out of his way to offer an "amicable resolution," claiming it was all a giant misunderstanding and that the necklace had been found tucked under Chloe's pillow.

For the rest of the week, Chloe uncharacteristically kept her mouth shut, though the glares she shot me were laced with pure, toxic venom.

I ignored her completely. My mind was entirely consumed by something far more important.

My capstone design project: an intricate, hand-crafted architectural model.

The department evaluation was set for tomorrow morning. The top submission would represent our university at the National Student Design Showcase.

For this single model, I had pulled dozens of all-nighters, obsessively refining every measurement and joint hundreds of times.

That night, after checking every latch and lock three times, I sealed the studio door and left.

The next morning, the moment I pushed the studio door open, a sharp, chemical stench hit my nose.

The model I had poured three months of my soul into lay in the center of the worktable, snapped cleanly in half.

Thick, glaring streaks of crimson ink were dumped across the fractured pieces, looking like gaping, bleeding wounds.

Scattered on the linoleum floor were several crumpled paper towels.

They were printed with the exact little cartoon bear pattern that belonged exclusively to the tissue box on my dorm desk.

"Oh my god, Mia! What... what happened here?!"

Chloe and her boyfriend, Ethan, appeared in the doorway, their faces plastered with cartoonish shock and sorrow.

Ethan even stepped forward, patting my shoulder with fake sympathy.

"Don't be too crushed, Mia. It's just one assignment. You can always try again next year."

Smelling the matching designer cologne rolling off him and Chloe, my stomach violently churned.

"Yeah," Chloe chimed in, barely masking the venomous glee in her voice. "We all know how many nights you stayed up for this competition. It's such a tragedy."

"I'll write this into tonight's chapter. Everyone will feel so sorry for you!"

I didn't utter a word. My eyes stayed locked onto those crumpled bear-patterned napkins on the floor.

Moments later, the studio professor rushed in. Seeing the ruined mess, his face turned livid.

"Unacceptable! Absolute nonsense!"

Pointing at the wreckage, he revoked my competition entry on the spot.

Then, bringing up the vile campus rumors about my supposed theft, he accused me of having an "unstable temperament" and "abysmal academic conduct."

He pulled out his grade book and stamped a bold, red "FAIL" across my capstone evaluation sheet.

"Professor, it wasn't me!" I fought back, holding my ground. "The studio has hallway surveillance! Pull the security footage and you'll see who was here!"

The professor waved his hand dismissively. "I already checked. The hallway cameras malfunctioned last night!"

A single sentence crushed every escape route I had.

I stood frozen in the cold studio. Months of blood, sweat, and sleepless nights erased in an instant, replaced by a humiliating smear on my name.

Walking across campus, the classmates who used to greet me with warm smiles now watched me with open disgust and mocking whispers.

Right at my lowest point, an unknown number lit up my screen.

"Is this Mia? Director Vance wants to see you in the Academic Affairs office. Immediately."

Director Vance. Chloe's father.

He sat behind an enormous mahogany desk, his beer belly straining against his pressed dress shirt.

"Mia, young people need to learn when to back down," he said slowly, taking his sweet time.

"Some things are best left buried right here, for everyone's sake." He lifted his porcelain mug, casually blowing the steam off his tea.

"Otherwise... forget about entering competitions. You might find getting your degree a bit of a challenge."

A blatant, naked threat.

I walked out of the administration building and stared up at the overcast, gray sky, hollow inside.