I forced my trembling body to stay upright, swallowing back the panic bubbling in my chest.
Turning to the principal, I begged, my voice cracking, “Principal, you said I was detained… then how could I possibly have had the time or opportunity to steal the test papers?”
The principal shook his head slowly, his expression unreadable.
“I can’t say how you did it,” he replied, “but we have solid evidence that you did.”
He turned the computer screen toward me and clicked play.
On the grainy surveillance footage, a figure crept into the test paper storage room, moving lightly on their toes. The person rifled through the cabinets, pulled out a sealed packet, and turned to leave.
Just before slipping out the door, the figure paused and looked directly at the surveillance camera—smirking.
That single glance was caught clearly on camera.
And the face staring back?
Was mine.
Detective Harris turned to my parents. “This is your daughter, Bridgette Harrell, correct?”
My father’s face turned deathly pale. His lips parted, but no words came. He couldn’t deny it. The image on the screen left no room for doubt.
The principal paused the video and zoomed in.
“Look,” he said, pointing. “The teardrop mole under the corner of her eye. It’s identical.”
He glanced at my mother. “Not to mention the matching height, clothes, posture—everything.”
My mother crumpled to her knees in front of him.
“Please, Principal,” she sobbed. “She’s only a child. Please… show some mercy. Let her go.”
The principal sneered. “Mercy?” His voice sharpened. “Do you have any idea the chaos this incident has caused? Entire exam halls shut down. Millions of students affected. Futures destroyed.”
Detective Harris chimed in grimly. “The theft of national college entrance exam papers is no minor crime. In ancient times, this would’ve been punishable by death.”
He looked down at me. “This isn’t just a school matter anymore. It’s going to the provincial authorities. And higher.”
At his words, my mother collapsed completely, her cries turning hoarse.
My father stormed over and, without warning, kicked me hard in the stomach.
I gasped, doubling over in pain.
“You’ve humiliated us!” he spat, chest heaving. “I should never have raised such a disgrace!”
He turned away, trembling with rage. “From this moment on, I have no daughter.”
Outside the principal’s office, the mob of furious students had grown louder.
“Beat her to death!”
“Because of her, we lost our shot at college!”
“I worked for three years—every single day—for this! And now it’s over!”
I pressed my palms to the floor, blood still trickling from my forehead, and forced myself to raise my head.
“It wasn’t me!” I cried. “First—on the day the test paper was stolen, I was locked in the detention center! And second—if I really wanted to steal the test papers, why would I walk in with no disguise, knowing there were surveillance cameras everywhere?!”
The room went still.
Even the enraged principal paused, stunned by the logic in my words.
For a moment, uncertainty rippled across the room.
But the principal quickly masked it with a scoff. He leaned back, lit a cigarette with shaking fingers, and muttered, “Who knows what trick you pulled?”
He didn’t want to hear the truth. He just wanted a scapegoat—someone to deliver to the public so they could bury the scandal and move on.
Detective Harris, who had remained silent, kept staring at the video, his brows furrowed in deep thought.
He replayed the clip several times, as if trying to spot something—anything—that didn’t add up.
But the video was flawless.
No glitches. No visible cuts. No sign of tampering.
It was me. And yet—it wasn’t.
After a long silence, Detective Harris finally said, “I admit, I’m curious too.”
He looked up at me. “How did you do it?”
“You were in the detention center. Yet somehow, you managed to steal the test paper from the school.”
He turned toward the principal.
“You said this school wasn’t supposed to receive the examination papers until the day of the test, correct?”
The principal hesitated, then nodded. “Yes. But… this year, due to special arrangements, a batch of the exam papers was delivered early.”
Detective Harris nodded slowly.
“That’s the real issue,” he said. “To protect the integrity of the test, the papers were stored in a sealed, guarded room. Teachers and staff rotated day and night to prevent any unauthorized access.”
