Rumors on Christmas Day: Time for My Revenge

Chapter 4 The Perfect Trap

Professor Vance’s office had floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the campus, dark leather chairs, and a mahogany desk wide enough to keep visitors at a distance. He pointed me to the smaller chair and studied my plain sweater before he sat.

“Chloe, thank you for coming.” He folded his hands. “I know this is difficult.”

He slid a voluntary withdrawal form across the polished desk. My name was already typed at the top, and only my signature line was blank. Beside it lay an official internship recommendation on Sterling Industries letterhead.

I picked up the letter.

The pen had torn through the paper where someone crossed out `Chloe Smith`.

Under the torn line, in neat handwriting, was `Liam Everett`.

I had the original list in my bag and the altered recommendation in my hand.

I let my shoulders sag and made my hand shake around the page. The trick required little effort; I was angry enough to tremble. Vance leaned back, satisfied.

My phone rested dark in my lap. The recording had been running since I left the elevator.

“I don’t understand.” I let the last word catch.

Vance steepled his fingers. “A young man with Liam’s connections and potential has a future at a place like Sterling. You,” he said, glancing at my sweater, “are a liability. True or not, these rumors reflect poorly on the university. We have a reputation to maintain.”

The recorder caught every word, along with the scrape of his pen and the paper moving across the desk. In one answer, he connected the donation, Liam, and the altered internship.

“The university received a generous donation from an associate of Liam’s family,” he continued. “They are invested in his success. This is cleaner. Sign the form, leave quietly, and this business is forgotten.”

He pushed a pen toward me and placed its tip beside the signature line. “No hearing. No disciplinary mark. I’m doing you a favor. Take the clean exit while it is still available.”

I covered my mouth and stared at the torn paper until Vance mistook my anger for defeat.

“I need a minute.” I gathered both the withdrawal form and the recommendation letter.

I hurried out with my head down and kept up the sobbing until the oak door shut behind me.

At the quiet alcove at the end of the hall, I wiped my face and straightened.

I stopped the recording and checked the last ten seconds. Vance’s words were clear. I saved the file and dialed a number I knew by heart.

He answered on the first ring. “Arthur.”

“Miss Sterling.” My family’s head of security never wasted words.

“I’m attending the Annual Charity Gala tomorrow night as the Sterling Group’s primary benefactor. Put me at the head table beside the chairman of the board.”

“Done, Miss.”

“Arthur, I also want control of every screen in that ballroom.”

Across the courtyard, lights were still on in Vance’s corner office. Two figures raised champagne glasses near the window. They were already celebrating the signed withdrawal they did not have.

I sent Arthur the recording and both lists.