Monday arrived like a storm.
Not with thunder or rain—but with whispers.
Every hallway, every locker, every text thread buzzed with one single line:
"Lynn Kay bribed the school board."
It was nonsense, of course. A complete fabrication. But the thing about rumors is—they don't need truth. Just fuel.
And Lynn's name was a bonfire waiting for a match.
She stood in the middle of the atrium, eyes scanning the students around her. Some watched openly. Some pretended not to. Most were whispering behind their phones, their screens lighting up with the same screenshot of a fake email from her father's company.
Gallagher appeared beside her, his jaw tight. "This is coordinated."
Fanshia was scrolling, fast. "They used a KayCorp header and everything. Look at this—'John Kay threatened to pull funding from the school's alumni trust unless Lynn received academic privileges.'" She scoffed. "They even spelled 'privileges' wrong."
Dianne leaned against a locker. "Someone's trying to make you look untouchable—in the worst way."
"It's Chelsea," Lynn said, voice flat.
"Jamy helped," Gallagher added. "Guaranteed."
"I'm not letting this slide," Lynn muttered.
"You don't have to," a voice said behind her.
It was Alex.
He didn't look angry—he looked calculated. Focused. Like someone about to take a game apart piece by piece.
He handed her his phone.
"Peter's been tracing the post. Harden's helping. We've got digital fingerprints."
Lynn scrolled through the chat logs. There it was—metadata, upload times, even an IP match from Chelsea's neighborhood.
"Receipts," she said, a little stunned.
"We're not playing defense anymore," Alex said. "They want war? We end it on our terms."
---
During lunch, the group gathered in the far end of the field—far from teachers, far from ears. Peter had brought his laptop, and Sam had already pulled up a presentation-style slideshow titled:
"Operation: Backfire."
Fanshia snorted. "You boys name everything like it's a spy movie."
"Because it is," Peter said seriously.
He pointed to the screen. "This is the fake email's source code. It traces back to an unverified account opened on the school Wi-Fi at exactly 7:42 AM Friday morning. Guess who was signed into the school server at that time?"
He clicked again.
A student login popped up: C.Thorne.
"Chelsea," Gallagher muttered.
"And this?" Peter added, showing a screenshot of a deleted text thread. "She sent the file to Jamy twenty minutes later."
Everyone went silent.
Lynn stared at the screen. "We've got everything."
"Do we go public?" Harden asked.
"Not yet," Alex said. "We let them walk into their own trap."
---
That afternoon, Lynn walked into chemistry class and sat beside Chelsea like nothing had happened.
"Nice nails," Lynn said, inspecting the girl's freshly manicured fingers. "Still trembling, though."
Chelsea didn't look up. "Don't start."
"Oh, I'm not starting anything," Lynn replied. "Just letting you know—you'll want to clear your schedule tomorrow. Your little masterpiece is about to become exhibit A."
Chelsea froze.
Lynn smiled.
---
Back at the Kay estate, dinner was tense.
Suzie sat at the head of the table in pearls, as always, sipping from her wineglass like it was a performance. Jamy, unusually quiet, picked at his food.
John Kay, stern and unreadable, cut into his steak with surgical calm.
"So," Suzie said lightly, "I heard there's been a… situation at school."
Lynn didn't look up. "You mean the fake scandal Jamy helped spread?"
Suzie's fork clinked against her plate.
John looked up. "Is that true?"
Jamy stammered. "I—I didn't start it. I just—shared the post."
"With the school board," Lynn said sharply. "You tried to humiliate me. Publicly."
John looked between them, frowning. "You had no idea what kind of legal risk—"
"Oh, now you care?" Lynn interrupted. "You've let Suzie run our lives like a press tour. You let them come after me, and you didn't even ask if it was true."
John opened his mouth—then shut it.
Serene stood up quietly. "This dinner is over."
She left without another word.
Lynn followed.
---
In Serene's room, they sat at the edge of the bed, both silent.
Finally, Serene asked, "Are you okay?"
Lynn nodded slowly. "I'm just tired of pretending I don't bleed when they cut me."
Serene reached over and took her hand. "You don't have to pretend anymore."
There was a knock.
Alex.
Serene gave Lynn a look. "Go."
---
Outside on the balcony, Lynn leaned into Alex's chest as the city lights glimmered below them.
"We've got all the proof," he said. "We release it tomorrow. With your voice. On your terms."
"And after that?"
"They won't touch you again."
She looked up at him. "You came into my life like a storm."
Alex smiled faintly. "And you stood in it like you were born to."
She kissed him—slow, sure, unapologetic.
It wasn't about drama anymore.
It was about truth.
And she wasn't afraid of it.