Chapter 2 - The VideoThe auditorium erupted.
Questions.
Shouts.
Cameras lifted.
Parents stood.
Students turned toward one another, trying to understand what they had just seen.
I couldn't move.
The image of my own face was still frozen across the enormous screen.
Me.
Standing in my bedroom.
Holding an exam paper.
Something I had never touched.
Something I had never seen.
Stephanie stood below the stage with her phone in her hand, breathing hard.
She looked victorious again.
But there was something wrong with the video.
I couldn't explain it yet.
I only knew that something was wrong.
Dean Harrow turned toward the technician.
“Stop the recording.”
The technician pressed several buttons.
Nothing happened.
The video continued.
A second clip appeared.
Another angle.
This time I was sitting at my desk.
The exam paper was spread in front of me.
My mouth moved.
The audio was faint.
But clear enough.
“I can sell the answers before the exam.”
The audience gasped.
My mother sat down.
My father covered his face.
I stared at the screen.
“No.”
Stephanie shouted from below.
“That's her!”
“It isn't.”
“You're lying!”
I looked at Dean Harrow.
“Play it from the beginning.”
Stephanie froze.
“What?”
“The whole recording.”
Her expression flickered.
For half a second, fear appeared.
Then it vanished.
“Why?”
“Because whoever made that video edited it.”
The technician glanced toward Dean Harrow.
Dean nodded.
“Play the original file.”
Stephanie laughed.
“There is no original file.”
I smiled.
“Then we're about to have a problem.”
She didn't understand.
I pointed at the screen.
“Look at the reflection in the window.”
Nobody moved.
I had studied the footage in my attorney's office the night before.
Frame by frame.
There was a reflection on the bedroom window behind me.
A clock.
2:43 p.m.
But the exam paper visible on the desk had not been distributed until 6:00 p.m.
The video was impossible.
Dean Harrow leaned closer.
“Can you freeze it there?”
The technician did.
I stepped toward the screen.
“Zoom in.”
The image expanded.
The clock reflection became blurry.
But the date stamp in the lower corner remained visible.
March 12.
The actual exam date was March 26.
Stephanie's smile disappeared.
Nobody spoke.
I turned toward her.
“You edited the footage.”
She shook her head.
“No.”
“The camera metadata says the clip was rendered two weeks before the exam.”
“No.”
“You created a video proving something that hadn't happened yet.”
Her face went white.
The room became silent again.
Dean Harrow looked at Stephanie.
“Where did you obtain the recording?”
Stephanie swallowed.
“My…”
She looked around.
“My friend.”
“What friend?”
She didn't answer.
Dean turned to the technician.
“Disconnect the external feed.”
The screen finally went dark.
Security officers approached Stephanie.
She stepped backward.
“This isn't over.”
“No,” I said.
“It isn't.”
She stared at me.
Then she laughed quietly.
“You still don't get it.”
“What?”
“I didn't create the first report.”
My blood chilled.
“What did you say?”
Stephanie smiled.
“I was just following instructions.”
“Whose?”
She opened her mouth.
Then the auditorium doors slammed open.
A man in a gray suit entered.
I knew him immediately.
Dr. Victor Lennox.
My research supervisor.
The professor who had recommended me for the Vantage Systems fellowship.
The professor who had testified against me during the first academic investigation.
He looked directly at me.
Then at Stephanie.
His expression was not surprised.
It was irritated.
As if we had ruined something.
“Everyone needs to leave,” he announced.
Dean Harrow stared at him.
“Professor Lennox, this ceremony isn't yours to control.”
“I am aware.”
He walked toward the stage.
Then he stopped.
His eyes met mine.
“You shouldn't have brought that envelope.”
I felt cold spread through my chest.
“How do you know what's inside?”
He didn't answer.
That was enough.
I turned toward Dean Harrow.
“He knew.”
Lennox's jaw tightened.
“He knew what?”
“The evidence.”
Stephanie suddenly stepped between us.
“Stop.”
I looked at her.
“Why?”
She leaned closer.
Her voice dropped.
“Because you're not ready to know who else is involved.”
Then someone screamed from the back row.
“There's a problem!”
Everyone turned.
A university IT employee was staring at his laptop.
His face had gone gray.
“Dean Harrow…”
“What?”
“The anonymous account just logged in.”
Dean moved toward him.
“From where?”
The employee stared at the screen.
Then slowly looked up.
“Inside this building.”
My heart slammed against my ribs.
“Can you track it?”
He nodded.
“I'm trying.”
The cursor moved.
The location refreshed.
Room 214.
The university archive room.
I knew that room.
It was where old examination records were stored.
And where the original integrity investigation files had been moved after my case was opened.
Dean Harrow turned to security.
“Lock down Room 214.”
Three officers ran from the auditorium.
I followed.
Nobody stopped me.
The hallway was packed with confused faculty and students.
Stephanie came behind me.
So did Lennox.
We reached Room 214.
The door was open.
A computer monitor glowed inside.
No one was there.
On the desk sat a single USB drive.
And beside it was a printed photograph.
Mine.
Taken when I was eighteen.
The day I received my first scholarship.
Someone had written across the photograph in black marker.
YOU SHOULD HAVE STAYED SMALL.
Stephanie stopped breathing.
I looked at Lennox.
He stared at the photograph.
Then at the USB drive.
For the first time, fear overtook his face.
“Do not plug that in,” he said.
I looked at him.
“Why?”
He didn't answer.
Because the person who had created the fake evidence wasn't trying to scare me anymore.
They were trying to destroy the last person who could expose them.
May you like
And according to the note…
That person was me.
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