But what shook me were the photos in the chat history.

Photos of me in the classroom. In the cafeteria. Even inside our dorm room.

The security guard looked at the photos, then at me, open disgust on his face.

"These are clearly you."

Susan gasped, putting on a perfect show of shock.

"Rebecca—oh my God, how could you do this to someone?"

I shook my head, brow tight. "I didn't send any of these messages. I don't even own a smartphone. How could I have been texting him?"

The guard rolled his eyes, not buying a word.

"What if you've got another phone hidden somewhere?"

Then something on Mr. Pierce's screen caught my eye: a purchase record.

A pale yellow dress. I recognized it immediately. Susan had worn it just a couple of days ago.

I whipped my head toward her. "That dress, isn't that your—"

"She's hiding another phone, obviously!"

Susan cut me off instantly, rushing over her words. "What young person doesn't have a smartphone? Don't believe a word she says!"

I looked at her flustered face, and a thought hit me out of nowhere.

Susan had been getting packages delivered almost every single day lately.

And those photos of me—especially the ones taken in the dorm—only a roommate could have shot those.

The security guard waved his hand impatiently.

"Enough. You're not going to settle this standing here arguing, and you're causing a scene."

"All of you, come with me to the campus security office. I'm calling your faculty advisor to deal with this."

Right before we left, Susan deliberately caught my arm, her voice all comfort and concern.

"Don't be scared, okay? Just explain everything to them clearly."

She let out a sigh, shaking her head with exaggerated regret:

"You know, I noticed ages ago you'd be up in the middle of the night giggling under your covers... I really should have said something. How could you lead someone on like that?"

I gave her one cold look.

Now I was certain.

Nobody scrambles that hard to shift the blame unless they're the one who did it.

I shook her hand off and turned to the guard. "Fine, let's go. But I didn't do this, and I'm not admitting to a single word of it."

Didn't everything online require real-name registration now? Whoever owned that account—how hard could it be to trace?

My mind was clear.

Photos could be stolen and lies could be told, but actions always left a trail.

When the truth came out, we'd see who ended up humiliated.

Advisor Chavez arrived at the security office in a hurry, heels clicking sharply, radiating barely contained irritation.

She glanced at me, then at Mr. Pierce still puffed up and furious, and her frown deepened.

After the guard explained the situation, she turned to Mr. Pierce first, her tone pleasant enough.

"Sir, please try to calm down. The university takes these matters very seriously, I assure you."

Then she turned to me, and the warmth vanished. Her expression went flat, impatient.

"Rebecca, what's this about? He's saying you took more than eight thousand dollars from him, and he's got the chat logs and photos right there. Start talking."

I held my ground.

"It wasn't me. I don't have a smartphone. Whoever was chatting with him, it wasn't me."

Advisor Chavez raised a hand and cut me off before I could finish.

"Enough."

"This man came all this way. He's furious. And the longer this drags on, the worse it looks for the university."

She tapped the desk twice. Case closed.

"Here's what's going to happen, Rebecca. You pay the man back, we put this to rest, and nobody hears another word about it."

I sat there, stunned. She wasn't even pretending to ask.

"I never took his money. Why should I be the one paying it back?"

Eight thousand dollars—where was I supposed to scrape that together? I didn't have it. Not even close.

Advisor Chavez's voice shot up, her finger jabbing so close it nearly touched my face.

"Then how do you explain these photos!"

Mr. Pierce slammed his palm on the table and shot to his feet.

"Exactly! She played with my feelings and took my money. I want every cent back! Eight thousand two hundred, not a penny less!"

I clenched my fists until my knuckles went white.

"I didn't do it. Period. If you don't believe me, then request an investigation. Find out whose name is actually on that account—"

Advisor Chavez cut me off hard.

"Check the account? Do you know what a hassle that is? You want the school to go digging through IP logs, pulling camera footage, dragging in the cyber police—all for you?"

"The man can't wait around for that. And the school sure doesn't have time to waste on this."

I didn't get angry. I laughed.

"If you won't check the account, how do you prove it was me? That's just pinning it on someone."

Advisor Chavez's patience snapped.

"The man came all the way to campus and identified you. You're still denying it? Students these days—nothing but lies!"

"And you said you don't even have a smartphone. Well, your roommate Susan Edwards just told me to my face she's seen you using one!"

I frowned.

Why would Susan lie about that?

Everything clicked. Susan was framing me—she'd run the scam, she was scared of the fallout, and she needed me to take the blame.

Advisor Chavez kept going, eyes locked on me.

"Pay him back now, and I'll talk to the man, get him to let it go. I keep this whole thing from going up to the dean. That's the best deal you're going to get!"

I was silent for a few seconds. Then I stood.

"Advisor Chavez, I need to step out and make a phone call."

A satisfied smile spread across her face. She thought I'd come around—that I was calling home to scrape together the money.

She waved me off. "Go ahead. Make it quick."

I took my basic phone and walked out.

On speakerphone, my voice carried through the crack in the door and back into the room.

"Hello, Village Head Hale? It's me, Rebecca."

"You told me before there are legal aid attorneys now—ones who help people from the countryside with lawsuits. That's real, right?"

"Good. Let me get the number down. People like us, out here on our own, when somebody tries to pin something on you—you've got to have somewhere to make your case, right?"

The moment I finished, a crash came from inside the room.

I ended the call and pushed the door open.

Advisor Chavez's face was drained of color. The cup beside her hand had tipped over, and she hadn't even bothered to wipe up the spill.

That overbearing posture from moments ago had vanished completely.

She'd pushed for a private settlement because she was afraid of the matter escalating.

But it never crossed her mind that some hick from the mountains would actually go looking for a lawyer.

When she saw me walk back in, she forced an awkward smile.

"Rebecca—you're back? Sit, sit, sit down."

"About all that… ahem, I got a little heated earlier, that's all."

"I'll take care of it, okay? Just—don't go running off to some lawyer. This is a school matter, we can talk it through…"

I watched her face change and said nothing.

Fine. If nobody here was going to make this right, I'd do it myself.

How Susan impersonated me to con people, why the faculty advisor rushed to cover for her—I was going to dig up every piece of it.

And when I did, everyone who owed something was going to pay.

After I left the campus security office, Susan kept fishing for information, trying to sound casual about it.

I kept my voice flat.

"I didn't do it, so obviously I'm not paying anything."

Her face visibly changed. She forced out a thin, dry smile.

"Oh… well, good then."

Of course she was disappointed. If this didn't go away, Mr. Pierce would keep pushing—and the more noise he made, the closer the trail got to her.

So she'd come for me again. That was a given.

I wasn't afraid. The more she tried, the deeper she'd bury herself.

That night, I finished washing up and headed back to the dorm.

A crowd had gathered at the door—seven or eight girls clustered together, craning to see what was going on.

Inside, Susan was tearing through drawers, her voice thick with tears.

"It's really gone! I left it right on the desk!"

The moment I walked in, she looked up, eyes red-rimmed.

"Rebecca, you're back? Have you seen my lipstick? The one in the silver case? I just bought it—it was over five hundred dollars."

I laughed to myself. So this was her next move.

The scam angle hadn't worked, so now she needed me labeled a thief.

And if people bought that, the money thing from before would be even easier to believe.

One of our roommates sighed:

"No idea where it went. The door's been locked the whole time, the window was shut—nobody from outside could've gotten in…"

The implication couldn't have been louder.

The thief had to be someone already inside the room.

I didn't take the bait. I walked straight to my desk and sat down.

A few minutes later, Susan drifted over.

"Rebecca, it's just us in here, right? I've already gone through everyone else's stuff."

"So… you don't mind if I peek in yours too? That way we can all just clear the air and nobody feels weird."

I said nothing.

This was obviously a setup.

But the second I hesitated, the whispers started buzzing around me.

"Right? Like, just let her look. If you won't even open it, that kind of says something."

"An innocent person wouldn't think twice. Just pop it open and prove everyone wrong—what's the problem?"

I knew that if I refused to let her search, the label "thief" would land on me right here, right now.

When Susan saw I wasn't pushing back hard, a flash of triumph slipped through her eyes.

She didn't wait for permission. She reached over and yanked my drawer open.

She knew exactly where to look—fingers diving straight to the very back, digging around—

Her expression stiffened.

I stood beside her with my arms crossed.

"Find anything?"

She pulled her hand back empty.

Nothing. She'd found nothing.

I'd expected this. The moment I noticed something extra had been planted in my drawer, I'd thrown it away.

Susan wasn't about to let it go that easily.

She suddenly crouched down, scooped up a black lipstick tube from under my chair, and held it up with exaggerated shock.

"Isn't this my lipstick?!"

"Wasn't the one you lost supposed to have a silver case?"