CHAPTER 3

The two-hour lecture finally ended, but Antonia's ordeal was far from over. As she packed her damp notebooks into her bag, her body was shivering violently from the freezing air conditioning. She stepped out into the hallway, trying to hurry toward the restroom to dry off, but a wall of students suddenly blocked her path.

Standing at the center of the corridor was Portia, surrounded by her inner circle.

Portia had already received the report from her minions that Antonia hadn't shed a single tear. Frustrated and furious that a mere scholar had withstood her first attack, Portia stepped forward, her heels clicking dangerously against the floor.

"I heard you had a little accident in class, freshie," Portia sneered, her voice dripping with venom as she looked at Antonia's soaked uniform. "And I also heard you still have a big mouth. What’s it going to take to wipe that pathetic look off your face?"

Antonia stopped, clutching her bag against her chest to hide her trembling hands. Despite the cold numbing her skin, she forced herself to look Portia dead in the eye. "If you think a cup of water is going to make me pack my bags and leave, you're severely underestimating me, Portia. I worked hard to get into this university. I'm not leaving just because you're having a tantrum."

"A tantrum?" Portia’s eyes flashed with genuine rage. She stepped dangerously close, her perfect facade cracking for the first time. "You think this is a game? You are nothing here. I can strip away your scholarship with a single phone call to the board. I wanted to see you crawl and beg for mercy, but since you want to play tough, let's see how much more you can take."

Portia leaned in, whispering so only Antonia could hear. "This was just a warning. Tomorrow, the real nightmare begins."

The next morning, Antonia’s feet felt heavier with every step she took toward her classroom. When she finally reached the doorway, her movements slowed to a complete crawl. She froze at the threshold, her eyes locking onto the massive whiteboard at the front of the room.

Written in thick, aggressive black marker for everyone to see was a malicious, disgusting lie:

"The freshie scholar is a fraud. She can only afford this university because an old, rich sugar daddy is supporting her in exchange for her body."

A cold numbness washed over Antonia, far worse than the ice water from the day before. The classroom was completely packed, and the moment she walked in, the room erupted into vicious whispers and muffled snickers. Her classmates stared at her with judgmental eyes, pointing and sneering.

Portia’s warning from yesterday echoed in her mind. This was the real nightmare. Portia wasn’t just trying to make her uncomfortable anymore—she was actively trying to destroy Antonia's reputation, character, and dignity.

For a scholar whose entire life depended on her academic honor, a rumor like this could easily trigger an investigation by the school board and strip away her future in an instant.

Antonia's hands trembled against her backpack straps. The sheer cruelty of the accusation cut deep into her soul, threatening to tear down the brave facade she had fought so hard to maintain.