Chapter 4: The Speakerphone Slip

The air in Dean Holbrook’s office was thick with unspoken tension. Harish sat across from me, a smug expression on his face, flanked by a young attorney he’d brought in. Siobhan sat next to me, clutching a notebook.

“As you can see, Dean Holbrook,” Harish announced, tapping a crisp white document. “Maya’s medical exemption for leaving the university grounds is fully justified. Signed by her insurance adjuster, Mr. Darren Foley himself.”

He slid the form across the polished mahogany desk. It listed a severe cardiac condition and recommended immediate transfer to a specialized off-campus facility – presumably, the one he planned to control. The signature at the bottom was indeed “Darren Foley.”

Siobhan leaned forward, her eyes narrowing. “Dean Holbrook, as Maya’s student advocate, I insist on verifying this policy timestamp directly. We need to call Mr. Foley.”

Harish stiffened. “That’s entirely unnecessary. The document is clear.”

“Policy dictates we verify all third-party medical claims,” Dean Holbrook stated, her gaze firm. She picked up her phone. “Do you have Mr. Foley’s number, Mr. Patel?”

He reluctantly provided it. The dean dialed, placing the phone on speakerphone. The line rang twice, then connected.

“Darren Foley speaking,” a gruff voice answered.

Harish immediately jumped in, speaking quickly, as if to cut off any deeper inquiry. “Darren, it’s Harish. Just confirming you spoke with the dean regarding Maya’s paperwork. Everything’s in order, correct?”

There was a pause on the other end. Foley, clearly thinking he was on a private call with his associate, let his guard down completely.

“Harish,” Foley blurted out, a hint of panic in his voice, “I told you those *fake cardiac reports* won’t hold up if the university contacts the state board! We need to pull them before they escalate!”

The room went dead silent. The only sound was the faint static from the speakerphone.

Dean Holbrook slowly lifted her eyes from the desk, her expression unreadable. Her gaze settled first on Harish, then on the “medical exemption” form lying innocently between them. Harish’s face, usually so composed, was draining of all color.

Siobhan shot me a wide-eyed glance. The game was up.