The Grand Hall was a mess of screaming women and men shouting into their phones. Alexander Valerius, the man who practically owned the city, was sprawled out on the expensive rug. His face was a sickly, bruised shade of purple, and his chest wasn't moving. Dr. Wagner was kneeling next to him, his expensive medical bag open. He was sweating so hard it was dripping onto the Chairman's silk shirt. He looked less like a famous doctor and more like a guy who had just realized he’d lied on his resume. "It’s a heart attack!" Wagner yelled, his voice cracking. "I need a defibrillator! Move back! Give him air!" Bryan was standing right behind the doctor, trying to look helpful but mostly just getting in the way. "Do something, Doctor! Save him! Everyone, stay back! Dr. Wagner has this under control!" Chloe was standing a few feet away, her hand over her mouth. She looked more worried about the Chairman’s wine spilling on her shoes than the fact that he was dying. I pushed through the

The silence in the Grand Hall was so thick you could hear the sweat dripping off Dr. Wagner’s chin. Alexander Valerius sat on the rug, his chest heaving as he took in long, ragged gasps of air. The sickly purple color was gone, replaced by a healthy, sharp glow. He looked like a man who had just climbed back out of a grave, and he was already looking for someone to blame. He stared down at the puddle of black, foul-smelling liquid he’d just coughed up onto the Dean’s expensive shoes. Then, he looked up at me. "Chairman!" Bryan was the first to find his voice, though it sounded like a squeak. He scrambled forward, nearly tripping over his own feet as he tried to look concerned. "Chairman Valerius, thank God! We thought you were gone! This... this lunatic, this student Ethan Vance, he attacked you! He stabbed you with a pen! We’ve already called the police. Dr. Wagner was doing everything a world-class professional could do before this trash interfered!" Dr. Wagner nodded so hard I t

Bryan’s fingers were inches away from the matte-black metal when the air in the room suddenly felt heavier. He was smearing his greasy thumbprints toward the card, a sick, triumphant grin stretching across his face. He was already rehearsing the words he’d use to call the police. He was already imagining me being dragged out of the Grand Hall in zip-ties while Chloe watched. "Let go of the card, Vance," Bryan muttered, his voice trembling with excitement. "Let’s see what this plastic toy is actually made of." "I wouldn't do that if I were you, Mr. Montgomery." The voice wasn't loud, but it had the kind of authority that made the hair on the back of everyone’s neck stand up. The crowd parted like a curtain being pulled back. A man in a perfectly tailored charcoal tuxedo stepped into the center of the circle. This was Mr. Henderson, the General Manager of the Northwood Grand. He was a man who usually didn't speak to anyone below the rank of a billionaire, and he certainly didn't ru

The Northwood Science Prize ceremony was moving at a clip that felt practiced, expensive, and utterly fraudulent. The Dean stood at the podium, his voice echoing through the East Wing with a cadence that suggested he truly believed the lies he was telling. Behind him, the massive LED screen displayed a high-definition rendering of a wastewater treatment plant—my plant. The blueprints were unmistakable, right down to the specific placement of the secondary filtration tanks."And so," the Dean announced, his chest puffed out with a sense of unearned pride, "we are not merely celebrating a student’s achievement. We are celebrating a milestone for this university. Through the visionary work of Bryan Montgomery, Northwood will lead the charge in environmental sustainability."A smattering of applause broke out, led by the front row where the Montgomery family sat. Bryan was already halfway out of his chair, adjusting his cuffs, wearing a smirk that looked like it had been carved into his f

Marcus Montgomery’s chest heaved as he stood in the center aisle, his face a dark, terrifying shade of purple. The expensive fabric of his tailored suit jacket strained against his shoulders as he clenched his fists, looking at the empty seats where the city’s power players had sat only moments before. These were the men who had been his friends, his golf partners, and his primary business associates until I opened my mouth and ripped the foundation out from under his family name. "You think this is over?" Marcus hissed, his voice cutting through the hollow, ringing silence of the East Wing auditorium. He stepped closer to the stage, his polished shoes clicking sharply against the floor. "You think because you ruined a single ceremony, you’ve won some kind of permanent victory? I have a legal team on retainer that will spend the next twenty years stripping you of every single cent you ever make. That black card in your pocket won't protect you from a racketeering charge when I’m done