THE BOY I WAS SENT TO DESTROY

12.

Chapter 12: File

Zane POV

I got to the tutoring room early. The library had already emptied out for the day and the back table felt too big without her. Zara had texted that she would be five minutes late because Priya wanted to show her a new drawing in the hall. I told her to take her time. I liked waiting now. It gave me a minute to think about last night outside her apartment and the way her body had pressed against mine like she needed me there.

Her bag sat on the chair beside mine. She had left it when she ran after Priya. Black fabric, worn at the straps from too many bus rides. I drummed my fingers on the table and stared at it. I was not the type to go through someone’s stuff. I had never needed to. People handed me what I wanted without me asking. But something about the way the zipper gaped open caught my eye. A corner of paper stuck out. Neat handwriting. My father’s name.

I told myself to leave it alone. I lasted about ten seconds.

I pulled the bag closer and slid the folder out. It was thin. Plain. No label on the outside. I flipped it open on the table and the first page hit me like a punch.

Hartwell Industries internal memo. Dated the same month her dad went to prison. Handwritten notes in the margins. Timestamps altered. Evidence log changed. And at the bottom, in Zara’s tight, careful script: Richard Hartwell framed D. Collins. Sealed the case. Destroyed the family.

My stomach dropped straight through the floor. Pages after that showed copies of the official court file with her notes pointing out every lie. Dates that did not match. Witness statements crossed out and rewritten in red. My father’s signature on the final approval line.

I kept reading even though my hands had started to shake. She had photos too. The ones she must have taken in Dad’s study that day Priya dragged her to the house. The exact memo I had seen on his desk once when I was looking for a charger. She had circled the part about “necessary measures to protect company interests.”

Everything clicked into place at once. The way she never broke no matter what I threw at her. The questions she asked during every session that sounded casual but dug deep. The way she let me touch her and kiss her and still kept that wall up. She had not come to Blackwell for school. She had come for him. For me. I was the way in.

The folder shook in my grip. I wanted to throw it across the room. I wanted to burn every page. But mostly I wanted to hear her say it was not true. That she had not played me from the first day in the corridor. That the nights she let me get close meant something real.

Footsteps sounded in the hall. Light. Familiar. I did not close the folder. I left it open right in the middle of the table where she could not miss it.

Zara walked in still smiling from whatever Priya had shown her. The smile died the second she saw my face. Her eyes dropped to the folder. She froze three steps inside the room.

“Zane.”

I stood up slow. My chair scraped loud in the quiet. “You left your bag.”

She took one step closer then stopped again. Her hands stayed at her sides but I saw her fingers curl into fists. “I can explain.”

“Explain?” I laughed but it came out broken. “You have a whole f*****g file on my dad. On me. You photographed s**t in my house. You let me tell you about my mom and the whole time you were using me to take him down.”

Her mouth opened then closed. She did not deny it. That hurt worse than anything.

I picked up the folder and held it between us. The pages felt heavy. “You came here to destroy me from day one. The corridor. The tutoring. Everything. It was all a setup.”

She looked at me straight. No tears. No panic. Just that same steady stare she had given me in the hallway when she called me out in front of everyone. “It started that way. Yes.”

The words landed like a slap. I stepped around the table until only two feet separated us. The folder stayed in my hand. I could smell her soap and the faint sweat from her walk across campus. My chest ached in a way I had not felt since the morning I found my mom.

“I let you in,” I said. My voice cracked on the last word. “I told you things I never told anyone. I stood up for you after the video. I kissed you like you mattered. And the whole time you were keeping this in your bag like some kind of weapon.”

She reached for the folder. I pulled it back. “Do not.”

“Zane, listen to me. My dad is innocent. Your father planted evidence. He paid people off. He ruined us. I came here to get proof. That is all it was supposed to be.”

I stepped closer. The folder brushed her chest. “And what about last night? When you kissed me back and let me touch you? Was that proof too?”

Her cheeks flushed but she did not look away. “No. That part stopped being fake days ago.”

I wanted to believe her. God, I wanted to. But the papers in my hand said different. They said she had planned every smile, every brush of her leg under the table, every time she let me get close enough to feel her shake.

I dropped the folder on the table. It landed with a soft thud. “You came here to destroy me… didn’t you, Zara?”