My head buzzed as I read what they posted.

The ordinary conversations we had shared over the past two months had been maliciously cropped, spliced together, and pasted alongside sinister black captions.

More than a dozen screenshots painted me as a habitual plagiarist, claiming that I had rudely demanded "guidance fees" and a share of the prize money.

They even accused me of saying disgusting, suggestive things to Sylvester. They made it look like I was hinting covertly that I wanted to sleep with him.

What enraged me even more was that even the transfer records had been mirrored and photoshopped. The 5,000 dollars I had once transferred to him had somehow turned into money he had sent me as payment to get me to leave him alone.

I immediately tried to explain myself. But when I clicked "Send", I realized the administrators had restricted my account. Every function was disabled.

Forget replying, I couldn't do anything at all.

Then, I remembered Sylvester mentioning before that one of the admins was his roommate.

My WhatsApp chimed a few times. Sylvester sent me a laughing sticker, followed by a series of texts.

"You saw everything, right? Honestly, when you think about it, this is all your fault."

"Ever since you joined the group, you kept saying this wasn't good enough, and that was too carelessly done. You forced us to refine the financial model over and over. Taylor's timid. You made her cry more than once."

"Zander wanted to make the market growth rate look better, but you insisted that 50% wasn't realistic and forced him to use a conservative 15%. He was so pissed that he smashed his mouse in the dorm."

"You're just a student too. We're just flattering you by regarding you as our senior. But you really started taking yourself way too seriously."

"To be honest, we've been sick of your bossing us around for a long time. If it weren't for you, our project would've been way better."

Before I could reply, every single one of his messages was deleted.

Posting on the forum first had been a preemptive strike to prevent me from reporting them. Now, his retracting everything was just to avoid leaving evidence behind.

I had truly underestimated them. From the very beginning, they had already been planning how to kick me out.

"Sylvester, aren't you afraid something will happen at the finals tomorrow?"

"Are you still trying to scare me?"

That message was quickly withdrawn.

Then, he sent another, "But you did remind me of something. Jolene Zimmerman, you'd better not show up at the finals tomorrow. Otherwise, we'll post all the ultimate material that we've prepared. You're a woman, after all. You wouldn't want your reputation ruined, would you?"

My reputation?

I saved the screen recording on my phone and reread the post they had made. Starting with the team leader, Sylvester, and followed by the other five members, all of them poured out their grievances online.

They said I was a dictator. Then, they said I had borrowed money from several of them. And when they refused to lend it to me, I had lashed out at them.

As if that wasn't enough, they even wanted to destroy my reputation too.

But tomorrow was the finals. As one of the judges, why couldn't I show up at the venue?

…

On the day of the finals, someone shoved me hard and dragged me into a corner the moment I walked into the presentation hall.

"You really have a death wish. We told you not to come, and you still showed up."

The one who pushed me was Zander.

Sylvester stood next to him, dressed in a business suit and looking sharp. He was ready to go onstage.

He looked me up and down from head to toe, then smacked his lips lewdly. "Tsk. You look pretty average in photos, but your figure's not bad. I'll play with you some other time."

He continued, giving me a warning, "You'd better leave now. If you don't, we'll add a little more 'content' to that post."

I looked around at them one by one and realized how completely different they were from the sunny smiles in the group photo. It was a sharp reminder to myself that I couldn't judge people by photos anymore. Otherwise, I'd just keep inviting this kind of trouble.

"Sylvester, we can talk about the post later. But right now, please step aside. The finals are about to begin."

All six of them wore expressions of open contempt. Not a single one moved.

Only Taylor spoke up timidly, her voice barely above a whisper, "But an invitation is required to get into the finals. She's not on our team. How did she get in?"

They finally sensed something was off and turned to glance at the ticket checker in the distance.

The competition was about to start, and I didn't have time to keep tangling with them.

Just as I was about to tell the truth, Sylvester suddenly seemed to realize something. The smile on his face grew even more lecherous.

He jeered, "Don't tell me you slept with one of the judges or some angel investor? Look at that body with the curves in all the right places. It's exactly the type those old men like."

I frowned with displeasure. "Watch your mouth! That's slander. I can call the police for that."

They burst out laughing.

"Then go ahead and call them. We've got evidence anyway." As Zander spoke, he pulled out his phone and handed it to me with his chin raised smugly.

The moment I saw the screen, the blood in my body froze. They had taken that single selfie of mine and used AI to generate dozens of pornographic images.

Every one of them was explicit. The men facing me were all blurred out, but I was completely naked. Even my name was written right beside the images!

"You're insane. This is a serious crime!" I exclaimed.

"What crime? That's your face, right? Jolene is your name, right? Which part of this is fake? How can posting true facts be categorized as a crime?" Zander sneered.

Things were spiraling in a far more dangerous direction. A sense of dread washed over me. I pulled out my phone to call the police, but Zander reacted instantly and snatched it away.

"Give it back to me!"

"If you've got the guts, come take it yourself," he taunted, stuffing it into his pocket triumphantly.

My heart sank.

A few male students passed by and greeted them casually. "Sylvester, isn't your team supposed to have six people? Who's this? Oh… It's that plagiarizing senior! What, did you give in? You're really paying her guidance fees and the prize money?"

Sylvester put on a pained expression. "No way. She pulled some tricks to get herself inside."

The phone screen tilted slightly. With that, the nearby students all gasped and started exclaiming in disgust.

"This is insane! She'd do anything just to win! She even resorted to using her body! How indecent!"

Zander grinned and mocked, "The top prize is 1.5 million dollars. She's got no ability of her own and only knows how to plagiarize. Just sleep with some old geezer once, and she can get that much money. Who cares about decency?"

Charlotte nudged his arm. "Are you sure it was just once?"

They shared a knowing laugh. Even Taylor, who was hiding at the very back, laughed along.

A chill ran down my spine.

There were women among the six of them. But all of them had no qualms about slandering me in such a despicable way just to get a bigger share of the prize money.

People passing by eagerly asked for the photos, looking delighted at the drama.

"I posted it in our college group. It's never been this lively!"

"Which college are you from? We'll be careful when we post. Wouldn't want to mess up your chances of landing a rich guy in your own institution."

I wasn't tall to begin with. Now, more than a dozen people had surrounded me, leaving not even the slightest gap.

Clenching my fists, I let out a cold laugh. "When did I ever say I was a student?"

They froze, clearly confused.

Sylvester waved his hand dismissively. "If you're not a student, then what are you? A campus janitor? That's even worse. A janitor pretending to be a senior and trying to take our prize money, huh? You've got some nerve."

The moment they heard "janitor", the others covered their noses in disgust and scattered.

A guy glanced at his watch.

The male student reminded everyone, "Hurry up, the competition's about to start. We're going first. Don't waste your time on her."

"Exactly. We've got a real shot at winning today. Once we get that 1.5 million dollars, we'll be set!"

"Sylvester, you won't have to worry about your mom's medical bills anymore. Didn't you borrow ten thousand dollars from your relative? You can pay it all back."

When someone mentioned the money, Sylvester's gaze darkened as he looked at me. So he'd never told anyone that the money had come from me.

He said, "You guys go in and sign in first. I'll find a place to lock her up so she doesn't come out and cause trouble."

"What? You can't—"

Before I could finish, Sylvester suddenly clamped a hand over my mouth and forcibly dragged me into the men's restroom. I struggled desperately, trying to call for help. But when people passed by and saw it was me, they pointed with morbid interest instead.

"Did you see the group chat? She's the senior named Jolene who plagiarized and extorted money from students. She even harassed the team leader and slept with a judge."

"Look at Sylvester's face. He must be furious. If it were me, I'd stab her for stirring up trouble during such an important event."

The restroom door slammed shut. After confirming there was no one else inside, Sylvester finally let go of me.

I warned coldly, "Sylvester, let me out before you commit a crime for real. Let me be clear. I'm not a student, and I'm not a janitor either. I'm one of the judges for today's finals!"

Sylvester raised his eyebrows. "You? There's a limit to lying, Jolene."

He swept his gaze over me, and his eyes finally lingered at the collar of my blouse.

There was a greedy look in his eyes as he said, "You do have a really nice body. It's better than the girls I've dated before. I'm about to go on stage. But how about I get a quick feel first? If we win, I'll give you two thousand dollars. Every time you accompany me after that, I'll give you another thousand dollars."

He didn't sound like he was joking.

Cold sweat trickled down my neck. I backed away until my back hit the wall.

I gulped and asked, "Sylvester, think of your mom. What would she say if she found out about this?"

He laughed and said, "My mom? She doesn't know a thing. She thinks that the ten thousand dollars was from my scholarship."

Sylvester walked closer and reached for my bra strap.

Just then, someone knocked urgently on the door outside. "Sylvester, hurry up! The competition's starting!"

Sylvester smacked his lips in regret and shrugged. "There's no rush, Jolene. I'll come find you after I'm done."

With that, he walked out of the restroom, locking the door behind him.

I gasped for air. Only after I was sure he was gone did I rush to the door and shout for help. Luckily, someone who was passing by heard me and let me out. I quickly thanked them, straightened my blouse, and ran straight for the presentation hall.

When I entered, the first two teams were already waiting backstage.

Sylvester stood there looking all polished and proper, smiling brightly. When the host introduced the other judges, he even nodded and bowed slightly, eager to leave a good impression.

Then, he saw me.

Everyone froze and stared at Sylvester in panic.

I didn't say a word. Right before them, I pulled out the chair in the middle and sat down.

Sylvester's face turned deathly pale.

Just then, the host happened to introduce me, "Next is a professor who just transferred here from Centura University. She's the youngest economics professor in our school's history! Let us welcome the head judge, Jolene Zimmerman!"