1 In my previous life, the campus belle accused my son of selling her private photos. The Dean of Students called me into her office, her face set in a mask of professional disdain. “Your son is suspected of distributing obscene materials. The university strongly suggests he withdraws voluntarily before things get legal.” My son, Lucas, dropped to his knees, his voice cracking. “Mom! Check my phone! I didn’t do it! I swear!” But Seraphina, the girl, knew how to cry. The university feared a PR nightmare, and I—I was terrified of my son’s future being flushed down the drain. In that life, I played the coward. I begged her for a private settlement. She took fifty thousand dollars and promised to drop the matter. A month later, she posted the bank transfer receipts online. “They tried to buy my silence with blood money,” she wrote. “But I only want justice.” The post went viral. Lucas was doxed, harassed, and hounded out of school. Six months later, the police busted an actual photo-trafficking ring. By then, it was too late. Lucas had developed severe dissociative identity disorder. He ended his life in a cold, lonely room. I fought for an appeal, for a public apology, but I was shut down. “He’s already dead,” they told me. “Stop causing trouble.” I spent every waking hour posting the truth, but the media only cared about the headline: “Brave Girl Stands Up to Campus Predator.” Eventually, I held a press conference to clear his name, only to be stabbed to death by a “vigilante” in the parking lot. I opened my eyes and I was back in that office. “Mrs. Mercer, your son stole my photos. You have to make this right,” Seraphina sobbed, dabbing at her eyes with a silk tissue. I looked at her, and I smiled. It was a cold, sharp thing. “Let’s call the police,” I said. “Let them investigate every single byte of data from the very beginning.” The color drained from Seraphina’s face instantly. Seraphina’s eyes were still rimmed with red, her knuckles white as she gripped her tissues. Ms. Carter, the advisor, was the first to snap. “Elena, don’t be impulsive. Once the police are involved, there is no turning back.” I looked her dead in the eye. “Turning back from what? My son being labeled a criminal, or the university’s ranking being affected by a scandal?” Ms. Carter flinched. “That’s uncalled for. We are trying to do what’s best for Lucas.” I almost laughed. In my last life, she said the exact same thing. For his own good. That was why she forced him to write a confession and drop out. And after my son died, she posted on her social media: “May every child be treated with tenderness by the world.” Lucas was sitting against the wall, his face a ghostly pale. He looked up at me, his voice barely a rasp. “Mom… I didn’t.” “I know,” I said. I walked over and picked up his phone. “From this moment on, do not touch a phone. Do not touch a computer. Do not send a single private message to anyone. If anyone asks you anything, you tell them we are waiting for the police.” Lucas froze, his eyes wide. “Mom… you believe me?” “I do.” In my previous life, I said it too late, and I acted too soft. In this life, I was going to be the shield he never had. Seraphina spoke up, her voice a fragile whisper. “Mrs. Mercer, if you call the police… those photos will be seen by even more people.” She was clever. With one sentence, she firmly re-established herself as the victim. I turned to her. “I trust the police more than I trust a few people passing around screenshots in a faculty office.” She bit her lip. Ms. Carter immediately jumped back in. “Seraphina is already in so much pain. What you’re doing is secondary trauma.” “Ms. Carter.” I pulled out my phone and hit ‘Record.’ “Are you saying the university has decided to skip a legal investigation and move straight to a verdict?” Ms. Carter’s mouth snapped shut. The office door swung open. Dean Harrison walked in, followed by the university’s legal counsel and campus security. He saw my phone recording and his brow furrowed. “Mrs. Mercer, there’s no need for this level of hostility.” I didn’t blink. “Dean Harrison, has the university contacted the authorities yet?” “The administration feels an internal resolution is more appropriate at this stage.” “Why?” “It involves a female student’s privacy. And the university’s reputation.” “Is that reputation worth more than my son’s innocence?” His face darkened. “Don’t be extreme. There are already rumors circulating online. If this blows up further, it won’t be good for Lucas.” Lucas looked up, his voice trembling. “I didn’t do it. I only helped her reset her password and set up two-factor authentication! We were in the public library the whole time!” Seraphina whimpered, “Lucas, you fixed my laptop. You helped me recover my account. But those photos were only in my cloud drive. You were the only one who had access.” The weight of everyone’s gaze shifted onto my son. In my last life, this was the moment everyone went silent. A tech-savvy boy. Access to the account. Explicit photos leaked. It was a perfect puzzle. I looked at Seraphina. “You say the photos were in the cloud. Then please, provide your cloud login history to the police.” Seraphina’s eyes flickered. “I… I don’t know how to check that.” “The police do.” Her face went another shade whiter. Dean Harrison finally lost his patience. “Mrs. Mercer, we are trying to give you an out. If Lucas withdraws voluntarily, Seraphina won’t press charges, and the school will keep the disciplinary record private.” “I refuse.” The office went deathly quiet. Dean Harrison stared at me, his eyes cold. “Then you will have to live with the consequences.” “Fine.” I dialed 911 and hit the speakerphone. “Hello, I’d like to report a crime.” Ms. Carter lunged toward me. “Elena!” 2 The moment I hung up, Dean Harrison’s expression turned into a mask of pure frustration. He signaled the security guard to close the door. “Mrs. Mercer, you are being incredibly irrational.” I sat down, crossing my legs. “I have never been more rational in my life.” Ms. Carter let out a sharp, mocking breath. “You think the police will magically prove Lucas is innocent? If they find even a trace of those photos on his devices, he won’t just be expelled. He’ll be a felon.” I looked at my son. “Are you afraid of an investigation?” He shook his head. “No.” “Can they check your phone and laptop?” “Yes.” “Will you give them every password?” “Everything.” I turned back to Seraphina. “And you?” Seraphina stiffened. “Of course, I’m willing to cooperate.” “Good,” I said. “Then you’ll hand over your phone, your laptop, your cloud accounts, your DM history, the links to the groups where the photos were sold, and the original transaction screenshots.” She lowered her head. “There is a lot of personal stuff on my phone.” “You’re reporting that your ‘personal stuff’ was stolen,” I said, my voice low and steady. “Now that it’s time to find the source, you’re suddenly worried about privacy?” Seraphina’s tears started again. “Mrs. Mercer, do you… do you think I’m lying?” “I think you should provide evidence.” “Would a girl lie about something like this?” she cried, her voice rising. “I am a decent person! My photos were leaked! I came to the school for justice, and you’re interrogating me like I’m the criminal?” Outside the office, students were beginning to gather, their whispers filtering through the door. Ms. Carter moved to crack the door open, likely to let the “public opinion” pressure me. I stood up and slammed the door shut. “Ms. Carter, this is a legal matter, not a livestream.” Ms. Carter bristled. “Why are you being so aggressive?” I looked at her coldly. “My son is being treated like a predator by the entire campus. You want to talk about aggressive?” Dean Harrison tapped his knuckles on the desk. “Enough.” He pulled a sheet of paper from a folder and slid it toward Lucas. “Write a statement of facts.” I didn’t even look at it; I just pinned the paper down with my hand. “A statement of what?” “A detailed account of how he handled Seraphina’s account,” the Dean said. “And an admission that his personal negligence led to the breach of her privacy.” Lucas turned white. I stared at the Dean. “Admission of negligence?” I let out a dry laugh. “You haven’t investigated a thing, and you want him to sign a confession? So that tomorrow you can officially crucify him for ‘negligence’?” The Dean’s face was thunderous. The legal counsel spoke up. “Mrs. Mercer, this is just for internal records.” “Then he’ll write the truth.” I grabbed a pen and scribbled three lines on the paper. I did not steal, save, or distribute any photos of Seraphina Mercer. I am fully willing to cooperate with the police and hand over all devices. I refuse to accept any unverified responsibility before a formal investigation is complete. I pushed the paper back. “He’ll sign that.” Dean Harrison didn’t touch it. Ms. Carter sneered, “You’re quite the legal expert, aren’t you?” “I’ve learned the hard way,” I said, looking directly at her. “Taught by people exactly like you.” Just then, Lucas’s phone buzzed on the table. A barrage of notifications from his class group chat lit up the screen. “Lucas, did you really sell Seraphina’s nudes?” “I knew he was a creep. It’s always the quiet ones.” “@Lucas answer us, you coward. Stop hiding.” Then, a screenshot from the “Anonymous Campus Wall” appeared. The headline was a knife to the gut: [Cyber-Sec Major Steals Queen Bee’s Private Photos. Girl Collapses in Dean’s Office.] The attached photo showed Seraphina’s back as she cried, with half of Lucas’s face visible in the background. The security guard’s radio chirped. He listened for a moment then looked at the Dean. “Sir, the post on the Anonymous Wall is going viral. External media accounts are already picking it up.” Dean Harrison looked at me, his eyes burning. “Are you happy now, Mrs. Mercer?” “You should be asking who posted that photo from inside this room,” I countered. The phone buzzed again. A text from an unknown number: [If you want to save your son, have 20k ready by tonight. Otherwise, his name goes global.] I held the phone up for everyone to see. “Gentlemen,” I said. “The extortion texts have started. Now, does anyone still think this should be handled ‘internally’?” 3 Dean Harrison didn’t answer. He simply told the security guard to lock the door. We were moved to a conference room upstairs. They claimed it was to “coordinate” before the police arrived, but it was a hunt. Dean Harrison took the head of the table. Seraphina sat across from him, her tears never stopping. The Dean threw a stack of printed screenshots onto the table. “Mrs. Mercer, this is out of control. The post has ten thousand views in thirty minutes.” “If Lucas cooperates now,” the Dean continued, “the college can still try to mitigate the disciplinary action.” “And what does ‘cooperate’ mean?” Ms. Carter’s voice was like ice. “Apologize. Delete any backups. Hand over the distribution channels. Withdraw from the university.” Lucas balled his fists, his eyes brimming with indignation. I placed my hand over his. “Ms. Carter, the police aren’t even here, and you’ve already sentenced him?” She snapped. “I have had enough of your ‘police’ threats! Would a girl like Seraphina make this up and ruin her own reputation for fun? Lucas is a cybersecurity major. He has the skills, and he had her password. Who else could it be?” “Everyone in this room,” I said. “Isn’t that how you do it? Casting blame without evidence?” Seraphina sobbed, “Mrs. Mercer, I know you hate me, but you shouldn’t insult Ms. Carter.” I smiled thinly. “You didn’t seem to care much about ‘insults’ when you let the whole internet call my son a predator.” Seraphina’s crying hit a snag. The Dean looked like he wanted to throttle me. “This is a university, not a circus.” The legal counsel pushed a document toward me. “This is a settlement proposal.” I skimmed it. Lucas Mercer acknowledges that his actions caused severe emotional distress to Seraphina. He agrees to withdraw and pay $20,000 in restitution. Both parties agree to no further legal or media action. I pushed it back. “Who drafted this?” “The administration, based on the needs of both parties.” “Both parties?” I pointed at my son. “Did my son agree to this? And is the $20,000 a figure the school calculated, or is it just a coincidence that it matches the extortion text I just received?” Seraphina’s head snapped up. “I didn’t send that text!” “I didn’t say it was you,” I said. She shivered. Dean Harrison cut in. “The point is to end this now.” “Of course it is. Because you’re all desperate to make my son the villain.” Suddenly, Seraphina stood up, looking like she was about to faint. “Fine. If you’re going to force me, I’ll show you the evidence.” She pulled out her phone and swiped through a few screenshots. One was a group chat where a user named “DeepSea” wrote: [Seraphina Mercer full set. $50 per pack.] The user’s avatar was a black square. Underneath, someone had commented: [He’s a Cyber-Sec major. It’s the real deal.] The second screenshot showed a payment QR code. The recipient’s name was partially blurred, only showing the surname “Mercer.” The third was a DM: [Where’d you get these?] [Swiped them while I was fixing her laptop. She has more in her cloud.] Major: Cybersecurity. Name: Mercer. Act: Fixing a laptop. Every single piece of the puzzle pointed to Lucas. The room went silent. “Mrs. Mercer, what do you have to say now?” Dean Harrison asked. “Lucas, how do you explain this?” Lucas’s lips were bloodless. Seraphina looked at him with heartbreaking disappointment. “Lucas… I trusted you. I even bought you coffee when you were helping me with my account.” Lucas’s eyes were raw. “I never touched your photos!” Dean Harrison’s voice was like a gavel. “Enough lies. Sign the agreement. Sign it before the police get here, and it might still save you.” Outside, the sound of heavy footsteps and shouting grew louder. “Is the creep in there?” “Make him apologize!” “Justice for Seraphina!” The door to the conference room rattled as people pounded on it. Lucas looked panicked. Ms. Carter leaned in. “Elena, if you keep holding out, you’re only hurting your son.” Seraphina looked at me through her tears. “Sign it, Mrs. Mercer. I don’t want to destroy him.” In my last life, this was the moment I broke. I saw the mob outside. I saw my son shaking. I thought signing was a lifeline. I didn’t realize I was signing his death warrant. Just as the Dean reached for the pen, the door was shoved open—not by the mob, but by two police officers. “We have received a report regarding an illegal distribution ring involving explicit material,” the lead officer said. “Seraphina Mercer, we need you to come with us for questioning.”
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