Chapter 5: Watch Him Fall
1246 Words
Dean Hargrove leaned forward like Cole had just handed him a winning lottery ticket — because in every way that mattered, he had.
"So," Hargrove said carefully, "is there anything you'd like in return for this donation, Mr. Parker?"
Cole set his coffee down. "Two things." He kept his voice easy. "First — I want Professor Holt terminated. Today."
Hargrove blinked. "Professor Holt has been with this faculty for—"
"I know how long he's been here." Cole met his eyes. "That's exactly the problem. He's been doing what he does to students for a long time and nobody's stopped him. I'm asking you to stop him." He paused. "The second thing — make sure my academic standing is protected. No failing grades, no academic holds. Whatever Holt filed, undo it."
Hargrove looked at him for a long moment. Then he nodded, slowly and completely. "Consider it done."
Cole stood. "I appreciate the coffee, Dean."
"I'll — I'll walk you out," Hargrove said, scrambling to his feet.
As Cole disappeared down the hall, Hargrove turned to his assistant. "Nina. Pull everything we have on Professor Holt. And find out
who Cole Parker really is."
Nina was already typing. "On it."
❖❖❖❖❖
Cole slipped into his two o'clock lecture seven minutes late.
Tyler Brooks spotted him immediately from the third row and grabbed his arm the second Cole slid into the seat beside him. "Well?
What happened with Holt?"
"Handled," Cole said.
"Handled?" Tyler stared at him. "Cole, that man has tenure. You can't just—"
"I said it's handled, Ty."
Tyler opened his mouth. Closed it. Studied Cole's face like he was searching for the joke. "You're serious right now, aren't you."
It wasn't a question.
Cole opened his notebook. "Just watch."
From two rows ahead, Preston Wade turned halfway around in his seat. Preston was the kind of guy who treated every classroom like
his own personal stage — rich parents, expensive sneakers, the loudest laugh in any room. He'd clearly overheard.
"Handled?" Preston repeated, smirking. "What does that even mean, Parker? You went and apologized, didn't you?" He said it loud
enough for the surrounding seats to tune in. "I knew you would. Guys like you always do."
Cole didn't look up from his notebook. "Guys like me?"
"Broke guys." Preston shrugged, completely unbothered. "No shade. It's just facts. Holt owns your GPA and you both know it."
A few people laughed quietly. Tyler shot them a look.
Cole still didn't respond. He just wrote the date at the top of his page and waited.
❖❖❖❖❖
Holt walked in at 2:08.
He dropped his textbook on the desk with a c***k that silenced the room. His eyes swept the seats and landed on Cole like a heat-
seeking missile.
"Parker." His voice was controlled but his jaw was tight. "You want to tell the class what you said to one of your classmates earlier?"
Preston didn't even wait. He turned around in his seat with a grin. "He said you offended him, Professor Holt. Said you were going to
get fired."
The room went electric.
Holt's face went dark red. He pointed at Cole. "Stand up."
Cole stood.
"You went around telling people I'd be fired?" Holt's voice cracked at the edges. Twenty years of unchallenged authority were right
there on his face, shaking. "You slandered a faculty member. You think I won't bury your academic record for this? I will make sure
you never—"
The classroom door opened.
Associate Dean Carroll walked in. Two campus security officers behind him. Nobody moved.
Holt turned. "Dean Carroll, what—"
"Professor Holt." Carroll's voice was flat. "Dean Hargrove has asked me to escort you off campus. Your faculty credentials have been
suspended pending a full conduct review. Effective immediately."
The silence that followed was so complete Cole could hear someone's phone buzzing three rows back.
Holt didn't move. "That's — you can't be serious. I've been at this school for twenty years—"
"I understand." Carroll nodded to the two officers.
They stepped forward.
"Don't touch me." Holt stepped back, looking suddenly small in a way he never had at the front of a classroom. His eyes found Cole.
Something desperate flickered across his face. "You. You did this."
Cole looked at him steadily. "I gave you a chance this morning."
The officers guided Holt toward the door. He didn't fight it — just walked, stiff and silent, twenty years of invincibility walking right
out with him.
Carroll addressed the class without expression. "Self-study for the remainder of the period. Your department head will arrange
coverage tomorrow." He turned and followed Holt out.
The door clicked shut.
Nobody spoke for five full seconds.
Then the room exploded.
"Oh my God—"
"He actually got fired—"
"Did that just happen?!"
Tyler grabbed Cole's sleeve with both hands. "How," he said. One word. Just — how.
Cole sat back down. "Told you."
Preston Wade had gone completely quiet. He was staring at Cole with an expression Cole had never seen on him before —
something cautious, recalibrating. Like a calculator that just got a result it didn't expect.
"You knew," Preston said slowly. "You already knew he was getting fired. That's the only explanation." He looked around the room,
voice rising, needing the audience. "Parker found out somehow and played it like he did it. That's all this is."
A few heads nodded. It was the only explanation that made sense to them — because the alternative, that Cole Parker from Eastside
Flats had actually just gotten a tenured professor fired in the span of a lunch break, was too strange to accept.
"Sure, Preston." Cole didn't argue. He didn't need to.
❖❖❖❖❖
By 3 p.m., the story had mutated into something else entirely.
A sophomore donated ten million dollars to Crestfield today.
It started as a whisper in the hallway outside the registrar's office and spread like a brush fire. By the time Cole was back at Room
412, Tyler had already seen it on three different group chats.
"Ten million?" Tyler sat on his bed, phone in hand, scrolling. "Who does that? Some sophomore just — who even has that kind of
money?"
Cole was quiet.
"People are going insane trying to figure out who it is." Tyler looked up. "The university won't release a name but everyone's
guessing. Some people think it's that kid from the engineering school whose dad is — Cole." He stopped. Looked at his roommate.
Really looked at him. "Cole, where were you this morning?"
"I told you. I had things to do."
"What things?"
Cole met his eyes. Held them. Said nothing.
Tyler set his phone down slowly. "Oh my God." His voice dropped to barely a whisper. "It was you."
Cole looked out the window. Down on the quad, students were still buzzing in clusters, all of them trying to solve the same puzzle,
none of them knowing the answer was sitting in Room 412 in a plain button-down shirt.
Meanwhile, two rows back in that same classroom, Preston Wade was still stewing. He'd built his entire identity at Crestfield on
being the most connected, most untouchable person in the room.
Someone had just outplayed him without even breaking a sweat.
And he had no idea who — yet.
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