Packages and food deliveries had been disappearing from the school dorms, mine included. I had no idea who the thief was. So I spiked my next order with “special ingredients.” When it was stolen too, I couldn’t help but smile. That bowl of pho contained water from a filthy bathroom mop. A week later, a police officer gave me a penalty notice. “Medical expenses are thirty-two hundred dollars. Pay by next week.” Before I could speak, Mr. Thompson, a school official, cut in. “You’ve been reported for intentional poisoning. The school has decided to cancel your first-class scholarship and financial aid.” They were trying to frame me? Interesting. I’m Lynn. The Law Department’s loophole queen. The penalty wasn’t just a fine. They were stripping me of my twenty-thousand-dollar scholarship and aid package. We’d already sold our house for my mother’s treatments. That scholarship was my last lifeline. “Sir, Can you at least tell me who filed the report?” I asked. The officer shook his head. “Procedure forbids disclosing that information.” My nails bit into my palms. My own food had been stolen seven, maybe eight times. Every report I made met the same wall: footage too blurry, perpetrator unidentifiable. So I left one out with a “special ingredient.” The thief ate it and wound up in the ER. And now I was liable? What a double standard. “Why should I pay for a thief’s bad stomach?” Mr. Thompson sighed. “Who took what first is secondary. The moment you introduced a foreign substance, the entire nature of the incident changed. A man was hospitalized. That is the primary fact.” “And the fact that he’s a thief isn’t?” I shot back, feeling utterly indignant. The younger officer beside him glanced at his notes, his tone shifting to one of condescending reason. “Listen. They’re only asking for restitution. They could have pressed charges. They’re doing you a favor.” “Can I see the other party’s medical records then? What did they find after pumping their stomach?” The officer frowned, and Mr. Thompson quickly stepped in. “Lynn, why are you asking so many questions? The school has already mediated this. Just follow the procedure and don’t make trouble for yourself.” I learned in my Freshman Orientation Week that if poor people want to live with dignity, they either need fists or brains. I didn’t have fists, so I sharpened my mind instead. For three years, I devoured legal texts. All so that when I argued, no one could push me around. Mr. Thompson mistook my silence for surrender. His tone softened. “Frankly, canceling the scholarship was due to pressure. Pay the medical fees now. Once this passes, I’ll help you apply for a hardship grant. It might cover some of the loss.” I nodded. I pulled out my phone from my pocket and opened the transfer app. “Alright, I’ll transfer it. Mr. Thompson, what are your payment details?” Mr. Thompson visibly relaxed. I typed in $3,200 and hit confirm. The screen flashed a green “Transfer Successful” message. Mr. Thompson picked up his phone, then frowned. “I haven’t received it.” “That’s impossible, mine shows it went through.” I turned my screen towards him. “Maybe there’s a network delay. Just wait a bit.” Mr. Thompson refreshed his screen a couple of times, but still nothing. I subtly reached out. “Let me see if your account has any restrictions set up?” Once people think money is within their grasp, their guard drops to its lowest. Mr. Thompson actually handed me his own phone. I took it. My eyes flew to his message history. Right at the top was a thread with a Mr. Evans. “he other side’s offer is too high. We can’t risk offending those connections.” There it was. The inside track. A jolt of pure, electric adrenaline shot down my spine. Every legal instinct I had woke up, sharp and hungry. I handed the phone back. “Maybe there was a glitch, but I’m tapped out right now. I’ll transfer it again when I get back.” The transfer slip was a fake. The money had gone straight to a shell account of my own. Just as I walked out of the office, my phone vibrated. It was Mr. Thompson. His voice was a tense, hushed rasp. “Lynn, I’ll be honest with you.” “This was a joint decision between the department and Campus Security. I’m just the messenger.” “If the funds aren’t in my account in thirty minutes… I’ll have no choice but to escalate this to Mr. Evans. Once it’s on his desk, there’s no pulling it back.” I clenched my phone, my knuckles white.
Back in Mr. Thompson’s office, I started by playing the victim. “Mr. Thompson, this isn’t fair. Why am I the only one being punished, not the thief who stole my food?” Mr. Thompson sighed, spreading his hands in a gesture of helplessness, but his words were clearly a threat. “Someone from higher up will eventually come to talk to you. At least you and I have some history as student and teacher.” “I advise you to accept the penalty quickly. If this escalates to the school administration level, the deans won’t be so easy to deal with.” Good thing I had a habit of collecting gossip. It looked like I needed to drop a bombshell. “If you don’t want to help me with this, then I might accidentally let slip about you and Chloe…” “Chloe clearly failed her exam, but you gave her an A…” Mr. Thompson’s eyelid twitched. Chloe. The ‘it’ girl of the Business department. Last semester, her overall assessment score was three points lower than mine, yet she ended up with a prestigious national scholarship. I’d found it strange then, but it wasn’t until last week, when I walked into the office and saw Mr. Thompson and Chloe. His hand was on her thigh, and they were kissing. Mr. Thompson was a married man with a family. I’d heard his wife was a total dragon lady, and they had two sons. “Enough! Don’t you dare!” Mr. Thompson slammed his hand on the table and stood up, his face beet red. “Lynn, listen to me. Some things aren’t what you think…” He took a deep breath, and his tone softened. “What exactly do you want?” “I’ve already put in a good word for you with the Dean. The penalty has been reduced from expulsion to just losing your scholarship.” I looked at him. “Who actually stole my food? And why is the school only punishing me?” After a few seconds of silence, Mr. Thompson finally spoke. “The Harringtons did pull some strings. Canceling your scholarship was a condition set by Skylar’s mother.” “The school’s new campus development still needs the Harrington family’s approval. What else could the Dean do?” “Just accept it. The school will consider compensating you for your losses later.” As I walked out of the office, my heart was pounding like a drum. So it was her. Skylar Harrington, the only daughter of the city’s wealthiest family. A third-year Business student, the ultimate rich girl of the entire school. Actually, Skylar’s little quirks were no secret to me, the legal shark. In Freshman year, someone on the campus forum claimed they saw her swipe a public power bank from the library. Others said her dorm closet was filled with random trinkets picked up from various places. Her roommate’s hair ties, the nail polish from the next room, even a cleaning staff’s forgotten mop from the hallway. All these incidents were inexplicably hushed up. And who would believe it? The Harringtons were so wealthy; why would their daughter steal other people’s things? I’d always been baffled myself. My voice recorder had captured every word of my conversation with Mr. Thompson. I pulled out the legal statutes saved on my phone, a small smirk playing on my lips. Skylar, you’re going to pay for my family’s new house. Later, I was at the cafeteria, standing at the end of the line with my tray. “Well, well, if it isn’t the poisoner?” Before I could turn around, a hand reached out, five fingers clamping directly onto the edge of my tray. Clang. The tray crashed to the floor, splashing braised pork sauce everywhere. I looked up. Skylar stood over me, looking down with a sneer, three stylishly dressed girls behind her. “Eating the cheapest meal in the cafeteria every day, and you still order deliveries?” “And if you do, why poison it?” Students around us started to gather, whispering. Skylar’s smirk widened. “Lynn, I advise you to just drop out voluntarily. It’ll be less embarrassing than getting expelled.” I crouched down, picking up the tray from the floor, and scoffed. “However embarrassing, it can’t be as bad as someone who eats actual crap.” Skylar’s smile froze. I sneered. “That Pho? The broth was made with water wrung from a filthy, old bathroom mop.” Skylar’s face instantly went pale. “It soaked for a whole night, and it was still foamy when I wrung it out.” I continued, “Did you taste it?” “Shut up!” Skylar shrieked, clamping a hand over her mouth. She bent over and threw up. The girls beside her also started gagging. It seemed they’d eaten my delivery too. A ripple of shock went through the crowd. “No way, could it be that she was the one who stole it…?” “Holy crap, this plot twist is too fast…” Skylar wiped her mouth, her eyes red. “Lynn! You bitch!” She lunged at me, trying to claw my face. “Do you really think Julian would like someone like you? Dream on!” I froze. Information about him flashed through my mind. The closed-door disciple of a Chemistry department academician, rumored to be the next Nobel Prize candidate. The school treated him like a treasure; even the Dean was polite to him. What was even more absurd was his incredibly wealthy background, and he was unfairly handsome. The untouchable golden boy of the campus, he’d never dated anyone. Skylar liking him wasn’t a surprise at all. But what did she mean by that last sentence? Julian… liked me? Skylar finally finished throwing up and took another step closer. “At the school’s mediation meeting, I will absolutely not let you off the hook.” A sinister smirk twisted her lips. “I’ll make sure you get kicked out of this school.”
The school called for a mediation, and only one companion was allowed into the meeting. Skylar sat beside her mother, Mrs. Harrington, who wore perfectly styled curled hair and scrutinized me from head to toe. I scanned the conference room and spotted a familiar figure by the window: Paige. With her there, I didn’t feel so alone. “I am Mrs. Harrington’s attorney. Based on the evidence we have, you deliberately put an unknown substance in a food delivery, causing my client’s daughter to be hospitalized with acute gastroenteritis. This constitutes the elements of a crime of endangerment by poisoning.” “Considering you are still a student, Mrs. Harrington only requires you to comply with the following points.” He held up three fingers. “First, compensation for emotional distress: five hundred thousand dollars.” “Second, a public apology, in video format, to be pinned to the top of the campus forum for a week.” “Third, voluntarily withdraw from school.” Mr. Evans, the Dean of Students, cleared his throat. “Considering Lynn’s otherwise good performance, we can temporarily put aside the withdrawal demand.” Skylar suddenly covered her face, her shoulders shaking violently. “I didn’t steal anything!” “That day, I saw a food delivery on the table and thought my roommate had brought it for me…” “How was I supposed to know it was yours? I didn’t do it on purpose!” Mrs. Harrington lovingly put an arm around her daughter’s shoulder, her gaze cutting into me like a knife. “Exactly! Who hasn’t accidentally eaten the wrong thing before?” Skylar pointed at me, her finger trembling. “If I had actually gotten seriously sick, you would be guilty of attempted murder!” I rolled my eyes. “The elements of attempted murder require subjective intent to deprive another person of life.” “How, exactly, could I have predicted you would steal my delivery?” Skylar’s sobbing abruptly stopped. She hadn’t expected me to be so familiar with legal statutes. The lawyer waved his hand. “Even if not attempted murder, it’s intentional poisoning. The hospital report shows-” I cut him off. “High E. coli levels. That’s your poison?” “What category does mop water even fall under, Counselor?” Skylar covered her mouth, dry heaving again. Her face was white with genuine disgust. Mrs. Harrington’s face darkened completely. I pulled out my voice recorder from my backpack, ready to counterattack. “I’d like everyone to hear a recording first.” Seeing the voice recorder in my hand, the assistant behind the lawyer immediately got up and moved to my side. “Wait a minute. You’ve been talking a lot, you must be thirsty. Have some water!” She held the cup in front of me, then suddenly tilted it, spilling the entire contents directly down. Warm water seeped into the crevices of the voice recorder. I snatched the recorder, pressing the power switch. The screen lit up. Thankfully, it wasn’t broken. Just as I let out a breath of relief, a figure rushed forward. Paige bumped into my arm, and the voice recorder flew out of my hand. It plunged through the conveniently open window, smashing into two pieces on the ground below. Paige’s voice was panicked. “I saw that assistant trying to grab your stuff, I wanted to help block her…” “I didn’t mean to, I’m so sorry.” Something inside me snapped. When the assistant spilled the water, Paige was sitting on my right. If she truly wanted to help, why didn’t she speak up when the assistant made her move? Her eyes held panic, apology, and evasion. Skylar and Mrs. Harrington exchanged triumphant smiles. The lawyer tidied his documents. “If the $500,000 compensation and the apology video are not delivered within three days, we will proceed with legal action. At that point, you should be prepared for expulsion.” A strange excitement surged through me. As a legal shark, I would never back down from a fight.
An apology was out of the question. Recording that video would cement my identity as a poisoner-a permanent, indelible stain. Even washing dishes, a future boss would fear I’d spit in the soup. I had to fight. There was no other path. The Harringtons moved faster than I’d predicted, dropping all subtlety. By the next morning, I was a public villain. I opened my phone to a flood. News alerts screamed: “University Student Poisons Rival in Jealous Rage.” “Future Lawyer Turns Criminal: Twisted Plot Unraveled.” Even my forgotten high school homework was unearthed, framed as definitive proof of a flawed character. The haters were relentless, hammering their story into the comments. They painted Skylar as the girl who’d just “grabbed the wrong delivery.” They called me a monster who’d “even poison a stray dog.” A soft knock came at my dorm room door. Paige was there, her eyes swollen like walnuts. She handed me two tickets to a concert I’d wanted to see for ages, front row seats, worth thousands. She sincerely apologized. “My parents have worked for the Harringtons for ten years. Skylar threatened them.” “If I didn’t help them at that moment, my parents would lose their jobs.” In the adult world, everyone has their own difficult circumstances. I thought of our three years of friendship and decided to trust her this one time. And give her a chance. I turned around and pulled a USB drive from my drawer. “The contents of this, when the trial begins in three days, help me post it on the campus forum and Ins.” “This is anonymous. As long as it’s not illegal, your parents won’t know it was you.” Paige’s eyes lit up, and she nodded vigorously. “Oh, and one more thing.” Paige lowered her voice, her expression turning strange. “That day, when Skylar took the delivery, I was in the hallway.” “She said, ‘A poor nobody, still ordering deliveries? Can’t she just eat cafeteria food every day? Why does she have to show off in front of me?’” I was stunned. Just because of that? “She also said, ‘Why do poor students get so much financial aid? I pay so much tuition, and I still have to watch poor people feast like kings in front of me.’” Paige’s voice got quieter and quieter. She didn’t finish, but I understood everything. I thought Skylar targeted me because my grades were better than hers. Turns out, she just couldn’t stand to see me do well. Even if it was just a $20 delivery. Three days flew by, and Skylar sued me. Reporters crowded the courthouse steps on the day of the trial. The case had drawn massive attention. Not only were the Dean and the Secretary present, but several major networks were also broadcasting live. The whole world seemed to be waiting to see the “poisoner” get her due. The trial began. The plaintiff’s lawyer was both eloquent and thorough. He submitted a thick forensic report and played a surveillance video. The video showed a stray dog eating the pho. Within ten minutes, it was foaming at the mouth, convulsing violently, then lying still. The courtroom erupted in gasps. The live stream comments exploded. “So vicious! What if a person ate that?” “Someone like her deserves life in prison!” “Thank god for Skylar. If the campus belle had eaten it, she’d be dead!” The judge’s gavel demanded silence. “Defendant, how do you answer the plaintiff’s charges and the evidence?” Mrs. Harrington’s smile was cold and triumphant. I stood. “Your Honor, I have a question.” My voice was calm. “The plaintiff’s case rests on me poisoning a delivered meal.” I paused, scanning the room. “But I never ordered delivery that day.”
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