Chapter 22 - Shark in the Tower

The walls of Valemont Academy’s administrative building usually breathed old money and quiet tradition. But as Marcus Lee stepped through the heavy oak doors, the atmosphere shifted. It wasn't just that he was tall or that his suit clearly cost more than the average student’s annual tuition; it was the way he occupied the space. He moved like a predator that had never known fear.

Noah trailed a step behind him, feeling the strange, heavy silence that followed them through the corridors. Noah wasn't just the target; he was the client of a man who broke reputations for sport.

“Don't look at them,” Marcus said, his voice a low baritone that vibrated with authority. 

They reached the Chairman's office. When the secretary rose to protest, Marcus didn't even blink, let alone slow down. He shouldered open the double doors, leading the way into a boardroom where the Disciplinary Committee sat like a row of somber judges.

The Chairman's face flushed a deep, panicked red. "Mr. Ola, you shouldn’t be here—"

“My presence on this campus is currently being billed at twelve hundred dollars an hour,” Marcus interrupted. He pulled out a chair and sat without invitation, leaning back, his eyes scanning the committee members with the boredom of a butcher looking at a line of livestock. “I am Marcus Lee. I represent Noah Ola. And I am here to discuss the massive, multi-million dollar liability this institution has just incurred by suspending a top-tier scholarship student based on unverified and anonymous ramblings of a coward.”

The room went tomb quiet. The Committee Chairman cleared his throat. “Mr. Lee, we have seen the photographic evidence of Mr. Ola’s... activities.”

“Since when is dancing in a club against the rules of the institution?” Marcus fired.

“This is not just a matter of dancing in club,” Prof. Lionel chimed in. “There is the sex for money scandal. One our moral clause-”

“Can you prove it?” Marcus interrupted. 

Prof. Lionel eyes darted to other members as he backed down. 

“Besides this ‘morality clause’ is a vague piece of legal fiction that will crumble the second I put your university’s donor list under oath,” Marcus snapped. “All you have is a viral email sent by a masked IP and an anonymous accusation without substantial evidence. If Mr. Ola’s admission is not reinstated within the next ten minutes, the first of three defamation suits will be filed before your lunch break."

The ‘executive’ aura of the board vanished instantly. The men across the table suddenly looked less like leaders and more like panicked bureaucrats who realized they were hopelessly outgunned.

“We only want to maintain the school’s integrity,” the Chairman stammered.

“Then do the right thing,” Marcus replied. “Lift the suspension. If an actual investigation ever proves criminal act or moral misconduct, then we can talk. Until then, my client is a student in good standing. Are we clear on that?”

Ten minutes later, Noah stepped back out into the hall.A rush of cold, sharp triumph surged through him, but it was fleeting. The war was far from over.  

***

As they stepped out of the Administrative Building and into the biting afternoon sun, a figure stepped from behind a stone pillar.

Sebastian.

He looked like a ghost of the boy who had stolen Noah’s phone. His eyes were bloodshot and rimmed with exhaustion, his shoulders hunched as if he were trying to fold himself into the wall. He looked directly at Noah, ignoring the towering presence of Marcus Lee altogether.

“Bena won't talk to me,” Sebastian said, his voice flat. 

“Look, Sebastian, I don’t give a fuck about your relationship problems.” Noah snapped.

“I know,” Sebastian whispered. “I just wanted to apologise for my role in all that you are going through.”

Noah felt a flare of white-hot anger. “You almost ruined my life! Sorry, don't just fix it.” 

“Tell me how I can make it right,” Sebastian pleaded. 

Noah was ready to tell him to rot in hell and let the guilt swallow him whole when Marcus placed a heavy, restraining hand on his shoulder. “Hold on,” Marcus looked at Sebastian with narrowed eyes. “You’re the one who sent the mail blast?”

Sebastian nodded slowly. “I kept getting information from a private number, telling me what to do and even threatening me at some point.”

“And you’d be willing to say that on the record?” Marcus asked, his voice dropping into that dangerous, professional register. “That the leak was a coordinated attack commissioned by this person we believe to be Julian Thorne?”

Sebastian looked at the ground, then met Noah’s eyes with a desperate kind of honesty. “If it makes Bena see me as a person again... yes.”

Noah pulled Sebastian’s phone from his pocket. He handed it back, their fingers barely brushing. The contact was brief, cold. “If you want to make it right, wait for the call. Don't disappear”

Sebastian took the device and slipped into the flow of passing students. He didn't look like a legacy anymore; he looked small, vanishing into the crowd like a smudge of grey.

Marcus’ phone rang.

He picked the call and listened for long minutes before speaking up. “Okay. Thanks.”

He ended the call and turned to Noah. 

“That was my associate. He found Julian,” Marcus said, “He’s at a cabin in Shere. We have sent the letter of claim to his mail and are currently filing in court. By the time he returns, he will be served.”

Noah nodded. “And Elliott?”

"It’s up to him to decide whose side he wants to play with,” Marcus said. "If he chooses Julian, we will have no choice than to take him down with Julian.”

Noah nodded. 

Marcus pulls out a new IPhone. “Here, for old times sake.”

“Thank you,” Noah whispered. 

***

Miles away, the Shere cabin stood as a masterpiece of glass and timber; a beautiful, silent trap.

Julian stood on the balcony, watching the mist roll over the pines. He stared at his phone, the email from Marcus Lee glowing like a taunt. The suspension was lifted. Against all odds, Noah Ola was back in the system.

“Clever boy,” Julian whispered, his voice filled with pure venom.

He didn't panic; men like Julian were built for the counter-strike. He hit a speed-dial number for a contact he’d been keeping in reserve; a disgraced former officer he used for ‘security’ work.

“I have a task for you,” Julian said, his voice clipped. “I need a witness who will claim theft along with video evidence. I will send the details of the person the video is to incriminate. Make it clean and fast.” 

He hung up and walked back into the warmth of the cabin. Elliott was sitting by the fire, reading a book with his glasses on. 

Julian watched him for a moment, his eyes obsessing over Elliott. He walked over and sat close by. “Hey.”

Elliott looked up from his book. “Hey.”

“You want a hot cup of cocoa to go with that book?” Julian asked, his voice dripping with care 

Elliott smiled. “You know me too well.”

Julian smiled back.

Minutes later, Julian returned with a cup of cocoa and a folder. He set them down on the center table.

“Thank you...” Elliott’s words trailed as his eyes fell on the folder.

“I was thinking it wouldn't be till we returned to town.” Elliott looked away.

Julian shook his head. “I know it hurts, Elliott. But the world is moving against you. I just got an email. Noah has hired a lawyer. He’s not just naming you anymore; he’s trying to sue you for coercion to get a payout.”

Julian opened the folder, revealing the formal statement then dropped a gold open on it. “Save yourself, Elliott."

Elliott’s hand hovered over the signature line, the gold nib catching the firelight.