Chapter 12: A Shared Burden

Eleanor carried the burner phone in her bag, a heavy, secret weight. The forum posts had solidified her suspicions about Alistair, but they were still circumstantial. She needed more. Her gaze kept falling on Chloe whenever she saw her in the department, searching for a sign, a flicker of recognition.

One afternoon, Eleanor found Chloe alone in the quietest corner of the university library, surrounded by research papers. It was the perfect opportunity, away from Alistair’s omnipresent gaze. Eleanor’s heart pounded, a mix of fear and desperate hope.

She approached Chloe’s table, her movements slow and deliberate. Chloe looked up, her eyes wide with surprise, then quickly clouded with apprehension. The colour drained from her face as she saw Eleanor.

Eleanor pulled the burner phone from her bag, holding it up for Chloe to see. The screen was still displaying the cryptic text message.

“This was on my desk this morning,” Eleanor said, keeping her voice low, almost a whisper. “March 12. April 5. May 21. ‘Prof. A’s ‘insights’ on ‘The Agora’.”

Chloe’s face paled further, her hand flying to her mouth. Her eyes darted around the empty library aisle, as if expecting Alistair to materialize. A visible tremor ran through her.

“I… I don’t know anything about that,” Chloe stammered, her voice thin and reedy. She wouldn’t meet Eleanor’s gaze, fixing instead on a dusty bookshelf behind her.

“Chloe,” Eleanor pressed, her voice gentle but firm. “I found the posts. They’re about my work. And they sound exactly like Alistair.”

Chloe squeezed her eyes shut for a moment, a profound internal struggle playing out on her features. The silence stretched, filled only by the distant rustle of pages. Eleanor waited, her gaze unwavering. She saw the conflict in Chloe’s slumped shoulders, the tension in her jaw.

Finally, Chloe opened her eyes. They were brimming with unshed tears. She took a shuddering breath.

“He asked me to do it,” Chloe whispered, the words barely audible. “Not to post, not directly. But to… to research arguments. To find ways to subtly phrase things. He showed me what he was going to say. He said it was for ‘academic debate’, to ‘prepare for potential critiques’.”

Eleanor felt a fresh wave of shock. Not only had Alistair orchestrated the smears, but he had involved Chloe, forcing her to participate in the intellectual theft and character assassination. It was a particularly cruel act, twisting Chloe’s meticulousness to his own nefarious ends.

“He made me feel like I was helping him,” Chloe continued, her voice breaking. “Like I was contributing to his ‘new direction’. But I saw the drafts. The ones he never sent. The ones about you. He was so angry. So… vindictive.”

Chloe’s confession confirmed everything. Alistair’s manipulative dynamic with his assistants, which Eleanor had glimpsed in the old video, was real and deeply corrosive. He had used Chloe’s trust, her desire to succeed, to serve his own jealousy. This was a specific, personal cruelty, forcing an innocent party into a morally compromised position.

“He told me your ideas were ‘unstable’,” Chloe said, a tear finally tracing a path down her cheek. “That you were ‘overly ambitious’ and needed to be ‘guided back to reality’. He said it was for your own good.”

Eleanor listened, a cold fury building inside her. The depth of Alistair’s gaslighting, his ability to manipulate not just the victim but also his accomplices, was truly horrifying. He had turned Chloe into a pawn in his cruel game.

“I’ve been so scared,” Chloe confessed, her voice thick with emotion. “He could ruin my career. He could make sure I never get another research assistant position.”

“I understand,” Eleanor said, reaching across the table to place a reassuring hand on Chloe’s arm. “But you’re not alone in this now.”

Chloe nodded, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand. “The Agora posts are just… the public face. He used a messaging app with his research team. He sent specific instructions. Dates, targets, phrases to use.”

Eleanor’s mind reeled. A messaging app. That was the crucial detail. That was where the full conversation, the true, damning evidence, would be. This wasn’t just vague accusations anymore; this was concrete, undeniable proof of a calculated campaign.

“He used an old phone for those team messages,” Chloe added, her voice stronger now, a new resolve entering her tone. “He discarded it months ago. Said it was broken. But I think…”

The implication hung in the air. The old device. The full, unedited instructions. The hidden trail Alistair thought he had covered. The shared burden, now brought into the light, had provided a new, crucial lead.