Chapter 2 Thievery

The silent treatment went on for three days. This was the first time I hadn't contacted her in more than 24 hours since we knew each other.

Beatrice was also equally stubborn, so she didn't text me. She probably thought I was throwing a tantrum, imperiously assuming that her loyal simp who would never leave her would eventually beg for her forgiveness.

Well, that simp was gone, and I couldn't be bothered to debase myself any further. So, I sorted out all my academic stuff over the last four years, preparing for the handover after I go overseas.

However, I was shocked to find out the thesis manuscript I'd spent countless nights looking through various references was missing when I opened my hidden folders.

That manuscript was to be submitted to SCI's top magazine.

My blood went cold, so I quickly pulled up the logs and file copy records. The data stated that Beatrice copied the whole thing during an afternoon a week ago. Then, she deleted the original file.

I shook with rage, grabbed the printed evidence, and charged into the campus' important lab. Beatrice and Howard sat before a computer together. They were sitting too close for comfort and were smiling brightly at something.

"Get out here, Beatrice," I demanded coldly.

Beatrice gave me a smug smile, as if she was saying, "See? You came to me in the end."

She took her time making her way to me, stuffing her hands in her pockets as she looked at me like I was beneath her. "Finally finished throwing a tantrum? Are you finally here to apologize?"

I hurled the evidence in her face. "Where's my thesis' manuscript? How dare you steal my work!"

Beatrice's smug look froze, but only for a moment. She didn't even feel ashamed about being exposed.

Instead, she picked up the papers and dusted them off. "Steal? That's a strong word, George. We've submitted that thesis to the core magazine. Howard's the primary contributor, and I'm secondary. And the editor's told us it's in use now. The notification came yesterday."

My eyes went wide with disbelief as I flew into a rage. "Are you mad? I spent more than six months coming up with that thesis! What makes you think you had the right to use it to pave Howard's future?"

She felt no guilt facing my wrath. Instead, she frowned and started trying to guilt trip me. "You're being selfish, George."

Then, she chastised me, "You don't do academics, and you'll only end up getting a nine-to-five. The thesis would be wasted on you. Howard's different! He'll be evaluated for the newbie postgrad scholarship. That thesis made sure he had it in the bag!"

"You know he's underprivileged and needs the money!"

I let out a bark of mirthless laughter. When I spoke, my voice trembled. "Then, you can give him all the money you want! You call yourself the savior, remember? Why'd you use my fruit of labor to fill that void?"

"You know nothing!" Beatrice interrupted me, now upset. She was still defending Howard. "Howard has self-esteem issues! He'd never accept money from me like that! Giving him that thesis will make sure his dignity is preserved, and he gets that scholarship! It's perfect!"

After a beat, she spoke to me like she was showing me pity. "Grow up, George. You're always so petty."

We were childhood friends of 20 years, even if we hadn't been dating for four of those years. I gave up a spot on Northopolis for her, and I humbled myself in this relationship for her.

And now she was trampling all over my love for a guy she barely knew for a year. She was rephrasing thievery into something that sounded almost noble, though only on her part.

This woman had nothing but hypocrisy in her mind. She was noble only when it came to using someone else's work for her goals. I found it all absurd.

"You'll regret this, Beatrice." I turned to leave.

Beatrice impatiently warned, "Don't you dare spread it around. Hurt Howard's pride, and I'll never forgive you!"

I didn't turn back. I went back to my dorm room and opened up my encrypted cloud drive. Beatrice was a complete idiot to think that this was going her way.

She had no idea that all my original data, records, and timestamps for all the editing were synced to the cloud drive in real time.

Now that I was done with her, I swiftly sorted out every important bit of evidence to nail them into their coffin of disgrace.