A middle-aged administrator—clearly higher up—spoke first. His tone was calm, but every word carried serious weight.

"Explain the New Year's Eve light show ticket that was booked under your name."

I took a deep breath, pulled out my phone, and opened the dorm group chat labeled 412 Fairy Castle.

"Professors, please look at this. This afternoon, Giselle suggested in the group chat that we go to the New Year's event. She even shared the booking link for the table—five hundred dollars per person. I clearly said no because I can't afford it."

I handed over my phone, letting the chat history speak for itself.

"After that, they… made fun of me in the group. Giselle also posted that status update, which I'm sure you've seen, Professor Mann. After that, I had no contact with them, online or offline. I had dinner, went straight to the library, and stayed there until I got your call. The library security cameras and my phone's location data can prove all of this."

I had to get my side and my evidence out before the parents showed up.

The administrators leaned in to look at the screen. Their expressions shifted from serious to shocked.

Professor Mann frowned. "How could Giselle and the others talk like that…"

Before she could finish, the dorm door burst open. Fast footsteps and shouting flooded the room.

"My Giselle! My baby! What happened?!"

A middle-aged woman in a fur coat stormed in, her carefully styled curls wet with tears. Expensive makeup ran down her face in two messy streaks.

Behind her came a man, equally well-dressed, his face tight with worry.

Giselle's parents.

Right after them, Kathryn and Sarah's parents pushed their way inside.

Kathryn's mother—dressed in the same flashy, jewelry-heavy style as Giselle's mom—exploded the second she walked in.

"How could the school let this happen?! My daughter went missing on your campus—you are fully responsible for this!"

Sarah's parents were much quieter, more timid. They hung back, wiping their tears and whispering, "Sarah… my Sarah…"

The dorm, already small, spiraled into total chaos.

Giselle's mother was screaming and crying, her eyes sweeping the room until they locked onto me like a hawk.

"You! It's you, isn't it?"

She thrust out a finger—a massive diamond ring catching the light—and pointed straight at me.

"You're Elena? Giselle's broke roommate?"

Her shrill voice cut through the air like a knife.

I didn't say a word. I just met her glare with a cold, steady look.

"Answer me! Is it you? Did you get so jealous of Giselle that you tricked her and put her in danger?"

She lunged at me like she wanted to tear me apart with her bare hands.

"Mrs. Murdoch! Please calm down!"

Professor Mann and another administrator rushed over to hold her back.

"I can't calm down! You said it yourself—the ticket was booked under her name! She booked it, didn't go, and my daughter and the other two disappeared! There's no way that's a coincidence! It has to be you! You vicious, heartless monster!"

She thrashed and screamed, spewing the ugliest words imaginable.

"Honey, stop!"

Giselle's father finally showed a flicker of reason, pulling his wife back—but his eyes were just as cold and suspicious when they landed on me.

"Mrs. Murdoch, I'll say it one more time. I didn't book those tickets."

I looked her straight in the eye and said.

"If I did—five hundred per ticket, three tickets, that's fifteen hundred dollars. Do you really think a student who can barely afford tuition could magically come up with fifteen hundred dollars just to take your daughter to a light show… out of jealousy?"

The question hung in the air. The room went quiet.

Of course it didn't make sense.

A broke student selling everything she owns, spending fifteen hundred dollars to frame her roommate? What would she even gain from it?

"What if someone paid you to do it? Kids like you—poor, desperate—you'd do anything for a little cash." Kathryn's mother cut in sharply.

I trembled—half furious, half wanting to laugh.

In their eyes, being poor was a crime.

Poor meant you'd sell your soul for money. Poor meant you had no morals. Poor meant your heart was as poisonous as a snake's.

"Mrs. Tyson, you have quite the imagination," I said. "But maybe you should focus on figuring out where your daughter actually went, instead of making baseless attacks on my character."

I locked my face into a cold, hard mask and stopped trying to reason with them.

Kathryn's mother went quiet for a second, her face turning red.

"Enough! Everyone, be quiet!"

Finally, one of the school administrators raised his voice and shut down the chaos.

"Our priority right now is finding the missing students, not bickering with each other."

He turned to Professor Mann. "Professor, take the parents and search the girls' beds and personal things. See if there are any clues. Elena, you come too. You live with them—you might know their habits better."

They were about to go through their stuff.

Giselle's mother immediately objected. "Why should you search through Giselle's things? That's private!"

"Your daughter is missing! Privacy isn't the issue here!" Professor Mann's voice turned sharp, her authority undeniable. "This is about cooperating with the school and the police. Please focus on the facts."

Mrs. Murdoch finally shut her mouth, sulking.

The dorm fell back into an uneasy silence, broken only by the sound of drawers opening and belongings being shuffled through.

The parents were thorough. They checked every drawer, every book.

I stood to the side, scanning the messy desks. My eyes finally landed on Giselle's small trash bin by her bed—the little one for used cotton pads and makeup wipes.

Inside, buried under a few crumpled cotton pads, was a single piece of white paper. Tightly balled up. Completely out of place.

My heart skipped.

I stepped forward, ignoring the mix of suspicion and disgust in the eyes around me. I put on a disposable glove from the desk and carefully pulled the paper out of the trash.

Slowly, I unfolded the wrinkled sheet.

My eyes narrowed at the handwriting.

It was a hospital lab report. More specifically, a blood HCG test report.

At the top, the hospital's name and logo were printed clearly. The patient name read: Giselle Murdoch.

The test date was three days ago.

At the bottom, in the results column, an arrow shot far above the normal range. Followed by a clear conclusion: Possible early pregnancy.

I held the thin sheet in my hand and lifted my gaze toward Giselle's mother, who was still anxiously digging through her daughter's closet.

In that moment, all the noise in the dorm seemed to vanish. All I could hear was the thud of my own heartbeat.

So this… this was what they were really trying to run from.

I raised the test report in my hand.

"Um," I said. "I think… I might have just found out why they disappeared."