But what shook me were the photos in the chat history.
Photos of me in the classroom. In the cafeteria. Even inside our dorm room.
The security guard looked at the photos, then at me, open disgust on his face.
"These are clearly you."
Susan gasped, putting on a perfect show of shock.
"Rebecca—oh my God, how could you do this to someone?"
I shook my head, brow tight. "I didn't send any of these messages. I don't even own a smartphone. How could I have been texting him?"
The guard rolled his eyes, not buying a word.
"What if you've got another phone hidden somewhere?"
Then something on Mr. Pierce's screen caught my eye: a purchase record.
A pale yellow dress. I recognized it immediately. Susan had worn it just a couple of days ago.
I whipped my head toward her. "That dress, isn't that your—"
"She's hiding another phone, obviously!"
Susan cut me off instantly, rushing over her words. "What young person doesn't have a smartphone? Don't believe a word she says!"
I looked at her flustered face, and a thought hit me out of nowhere.
Susan had been getting packages delivered almost every single day lately.
And those photos of me—especially the ones taken in the dorm—only a roommate could have shot those.
The security guard waved his hand impatiently.
"Enough. You're not going to settle this standing here arguing, and you're causing a scene."
"All of you, come with me to the campus security office. I'm calling your faculty advisor to deal with this."
Right before we left, Susan deliberately caught my arm, her voice all comfort and concern.
"Don't be scared, okay? Just explain everything to them clearly."
She let out a sigh, shaking her head with exaggerated regret:
"You know, I noticed ages ago you'd be up in the middle of the night giggling under your covers... I really should have said something. How could you lead someone on like that?"
I gave her one cold look.
Now I was certain.
Nobody scrambles that hard to shift the blame unless they're the one who did it.
I shook her hand off and turned to the guard. "Fine, let's go. But I didn't do this, and I'm not admitting to a single word of it."
Didn't everything online require real-name registration now? Whoever owned that account—how hard could it be to trace?
My mind was clear.
Photos could be stolen and lies could be told, but actions always left a trail.
When the truth came out, we'd see who ended up humiliated.
Advisor Chavez arrived at the security office in a hurry, heels clicking sharply, radiating barely contained irritation.
She glanced at me, then at Mr. Pierce still puffed up and furious, and her frown deepened.
After the guard explained the situation, she turned to Mr. Pierce first, her tone pleasant enough.
"Sir, please try to calm down. The university takes these matters very seriously, I assure you."
Then she turned to me, and the warmth vanished. Her expression went flat, impatient.
"Rebecca, what's this about? He's saying you took more than eight thousand dollars from him, and he's got the chat logs and photos right there. Start talking."
I held my ground.
"It wasn't me. I don't have a smartphone. Whoever was chatting with him, it wasn't me."
Advisor Chavez raised a hand and cut me off before I could finish.
"Enough."
"This man came all this way. He's furious. And the longer this drags on, the worse it looks for the university."
