LOGINBrandon’s lips brushed against mine, his voice a low murmur. “Didn’t think you’d be on your knees for me so soon, sunflower.” I shoved him back, breath unsteady. “This isn’t a game.” But it was. With his father cutting him off and his half-brother poised to take everything, Cameron had no choice. Marrying Brandon the man he despised most—was the only way to secure his inheritance. Brandon was insufferable. Arrogant. And worst of all… he was enjoying every second of this. Cameron was straight. He hated him. Or was he?
View MoreBrandon’s POVThe first sign that something had shifted was not a threat.It was silence.For almost twelve hours after Cameron replied No to the final warning, there were no anonymous messages, no distorted calls, no veiled intimidation disguised as institutional language. The quiet felt intentional, like a vacuum forming before pressure reversed direction.Silence from an opponent does not mean retreat.It means recalibration.Cameron noticed it too, though he did not say so immediately. He was sitting cross-legged on the floor of my apartment, laptop open, the financial document still illuminated on the screen. He had mapped the highlighted transfers into a visual chain, connecting dates, authorization codes, and administrative accounts.“They rerouted discretionary funds through layered approvals,” he said finally. “Small enough increments to avoid automatic flagging.”“Where did it end,” I asked.He zoomed in.“Consulting contracts.”“For what.”“No listed deliverables.”I leaned
Cameron’s POVThe conduct hearing was scheduled for 9:00 a.m., which was deliberate because mornings create an illusion of clarity and order, as though decisions made under fluorescent lighting and formal language cannot possibly be distorted by motive.Brandon walked beside me toward the administrative building, his stride even, his shoulder brushing mine occasionally in quiet reassurance. He had not said much since the photo was sent the night before, but his silence was not fear. It was focus.“They will try to provoke,” he said calmly as we reached the steps.“Yes.”“Do not react to tone.”“I will not.”“And if they redirect to you personally.”“I will redirect to documentation.”He nodded once. That was enough.Inside, the room was already prepared. A long table. Recording equipment. Three board members present, including Professor Okoye. Dean Halvorsen was there as well, though not seated at the center this time.That detail mattered.A neutral moderator began the proceedings fo
Brandon’s POVThe external inquiry request went live at 8:03 a.m.Cameron did not hesitate when he pressed send. He had drafted the formal petition the night before with the kind of precision that turns emotion into structure. It was addressed to the university’s accreditation body, the academic ethics council, and three external oversight organizations that specialized in institutional transparency. Every claim was documented. Every timestamp cross-referenced. Every accusation framed as a request for independent verification rather than outrage.It was devastatingly professional.When the confirmation receipt appeared in his inbox, he exhaled once, slowly.“That is it,” I said quietly.“Yes,” he replied.There was no drama in the moment. No music swelling in the background. Just the soft hum of his laptop fan and the weight of knowing we had forced this beyond campus containment.My phone buzzed.Then his did.Then mine again.Emails.Notifications.The dean’s office had responded f
Brandon’s POVThe external inquiry request went live at 8:03 a.m.Cameron did not hesitate when he pressed send. He had drafted the formal petition the night before with the kind of precision that turns emotion into structure. It was addressed to the university’s accreditation body, the academic ethics council, and three external oversight organizations that specialized in institutional transparency. Every claim was documented. Every timestamp cross-referenced. Every accusation framed as a request for independent verification rather than outrage.It was devastatingly professional.When the confirmation receipt appeared in his inbox, he exhaled once, slowly.“That is it,” I said quietly.“Yes,” he replied.There was no drama in the moment. No music swelling in the background. Just the soft hum of his laptop fan and the weight of knowing we had forced this beyond campus containment.My phone buzzed.Then his did.Then mine again.Emails.Notifications.The dean’s office had responded fa
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