You don't belong in this bank, and this five-million-dollar draft is as fake as your thrift-store jacket, Branch Manager Nora Albright spat, ripping the cashier's check into four pieces right in...
The rain plastered my hair to my face as I walked back to my university dorm. It was barely 11:30 AM, but the grey sky made it feel much later. My mind replayed Julian’s cold smile in the bank, his words about taking control.
A knot formed in my stomach as I approached the door to my building.
Then I saw them.
My personal belongings were stacked haphazardly in cardboard boxes, lined up in the narrow hallway outside my room. My textbooks, a framed photo of my father, even the worn blanket I’d kept since childhood.
A wave of heat rushed through me.
“What is this?” I muttered, dropping my soaked backpack.
A stern-faced woman, the Resident Advisor from the floor above, emerged from the common room. She held a printed email in her hand.
“Maya Holloway?” she asked, her voice clipped.
I nodded, my throat tight.
“The Dean of Student Affairs has issued an immediate suspension of your housing privileges,” she stated, not looking me in the eye.
She gestured vaguely at the boxes. “Your access card has been deactivated. You need to vacate the premises.”
My breath hitched. “On what grounds?”
She held up the email, her finger pointing at a specific line. “Allegations of severe financial impropriety, specifically regarding family trust funds.”
“This is impossible,” I said, trying to steady my voice. “Those funds are for a scholarship.”
“The email included audio clips,” she continued, her gaze finally meeting mine, but it was devoid of sympathy. “Edited, they appear to implicate you in embezzlement. Your son, Julian, provided them.”
My world tilted. Julian. He wasn’t just trying to seize the trust; he was trying to ruin my life, systematically.
“I need to speak to the Dean,” I insisted, reaching for my phone.
“He’s in meetings all day,” she said flatly. “And you have until 1:00 PM to clear these boxes. Otherwise, they’ll be moved to off-campus storage, at your expense.”
Another punch to the gut. Julian had known exactly how to isolate me. My housing, my studies, my entire academic life, all connected to this campus.
I clenched my fists. The rain was still falling. My classmates, peeking out from their doors, quickly averted their eyes, their whispers like static in the background.
I was alone, and Julian had made sure everyone knew it.
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