Chapter 2

The next morning, the counselor, Olivia Sutton, pushed open our dorm room door. "Demi Nicholson, get up!"

A phone was thrown onto my bed, its screen looping a 15-second video.

A figure in a black jacket swiped a card to enter the archives building. The door access prompt sounded painfully distinct. "Authentication successful. Demi Nicholson."

The camera cut to the person sitting at a computer, bringing up the evaluation score sheet. At the very end of the clip, there was a zoomed-in shot of a face—my face.

The campus forum was in an absolute uproar.

"She's ranked first for the grad school exam and is still cheating? Is she that scared second place might catch up?"

"The access log and the face both match. Nothing to defend here."

"Just expel her. Don't let people like this walk away with a degree from our school."

Olivia glared at me. "Where were you at 11:47 pm last night?"

"In the dorm," I replied.

"Who can prove that?"

The room went dead silent.

One roommate spoke up in a low voice. "We were all asleep after 11:00 pm."

Another roommate hesitated for a moment. "I think Demi went downstairs once in the middle of the night."

"I went to pick up a package and was back in ten minutes," I said.

Olivia sneered. "The archives building is right next to the dorms. Ten minutes is plenty of time."

Jessica had just gotten out of bed. When she saw the video, her face drained of color instantly. "That's impossible! Demi would never do something like this!"

She scrambled to stand in front of me. "Ms. Sutton, Demi did lend me her student ID last night, but I returned it around 10:00 pm. The card was already back in her hands by 11:47 pm."

On the surface, it sounded like she was standing up for me. Yet that single statement neatly cleared her of all suspicion.

Olivia pressed further, "Are you sure you returned it around 10:00 pm?"

"I'm sure." Jessica's eyes flushed red with tears. "When I got back, Demi was in the dorm. She's definitely being framed. Please, couldn't you check again?"

A crowd was gathering outside the doorway.

Someone chimed in mockingly, "Her face is right there on video. How could she possibly be framed?"

"Jessica is way too naive. Demi stole her spot, and she's still defending her."

"No wonder Demi had to forge the scores. Jessica was closing in fast on her overall rank."

Jessica bit her lip, and tears streamed down her cheeks. "I don't even want the grad school slot anymore."

She looked at me, her voice trembling. "Demi, as long as you're okay, you can have the slot."

The onlookers grew even more furious.

"Why should you give it to her?"

"Since when does the cheater get to play the victim?"

Olivia's expression darkened. "Enough, all of you. Demi, come with me to the administration building."

I put on my jacket and grabbed my phone. "Fine. I request to see the raw surveillance footage."

"The university will investigate."

"I also want the backend access log for the security system," I said.

"You don't just get to view those whenever you feel like it."

I raised my head. "Then I'm calling the police."

Olivia's expression shifted immediately. "Nothing has been proven yet. Do you really want to drag the police into this and disgrace the university?"

I retorted, "Someone stole my student ID data and forged a fake video with my face. What's wrong with calling the police?"

"Fake?"

The security officer, Randy Deleon, stepped out from behind the crowd. He held up a printed sheet of the card access logs. "There are no anomalies in the system backend, and the video passed preliminary verification. Demi, all the evidence points directly to you."

Just then, my phone rang.

It was Mom.

The moment I picked up, her voice sounded frantic with worry. "Demi, what's going on with all these rumors online? Your dad is already on his way to buy train tickets. Don't be scared. Just wait until we get there."

Hearing her voice, a wave of warmth and sadness hit my chest.

In my past life, they had rushed over just like this. They had arrived with complete, unwavering trust in me, only to be forced to bow their heads before the entire school.

I squeezed my palm so tightly that my nails dug into my skin. "Mom, don't apologize."

There was a sudden silence on the other end of the line.

Slowly, I said, "No matter who tries to force you, don't ever apologize for me."