ETHAN
Aldridge would arrive smiling.
Ethan could already see it.
Not the kind of smile that meant warmth.
The kind that meant the room belonged to him.
Maren's office was suddenly too small to hold that.
Nora kept typing.
Her fingers were steady.
That was her superpower and her liability.
Priya stood behind her like a guard dog in a blazer.
Marcus tried to be furniture and failed.
Daniel sat like he was waiting for a verdict.
The campus safety officer shifted his weight and glanced at the door like he didn't want to be on the same side of a headline.
Maren put the phone down.
She didn't announce anything dramatic.
She just said, "He'll be here in two minutes."
Two minutes.
A countdown that wasn't Cal's.
Ethan's mind went automatic.
Distance to the door.
Angle of the desk.
Where Nora's back was exposed.
Where the officer stood.
How many people in this room could be forced into a witness role.
Aldridge loved witnesses.
Cal loved witnesses too.
Different reasons.
Same hunger.
Ethan stepped closer to Nora, not touching, just making himself part of her perimeter.
Nora's eyes flicked up for half a second.
A question.
Ethan gave her the smallest nod.
I've got it.
He didn't know if that was true.
But he knew it mattered.
Priya leaned toward Maren.
"Are we letting him in," Priya asked.
Maren's face stayed flat.
"We are not a locked room," she said.
Priya's smile turned sharp.
"Then we should be," she muttered.
Maren looked at Ethan.
"Mr. Cross," she said.
Ethan turned.
"Yes," he said.
Maren's gaze held his.
"When he comes in," she said, "you do not speak for Ms. Chen."
Ethan's jaw tightened.
"Understood," he said.
Maren continued.
"You can be present," she said. "You can take notes. You can correct facts. But you do not escalate. This is a documentation meeting."
Documentation.
Boring.
Clean.
Ethan nodded.
"Okay," he said.
The officer cleared his throat.
"Also," he said, trying to sound official, "no one touches anyone's devices. We keep it simple."
Priya's eyes flicked to him.
"Simple doesn't exist here," Priya said.
The officer pretended he didn't hear.
Nora's typing stopped.
Ethan's pulse jumped.
Tell.
But Nora didn't look up.
She just clicked print.
The printer behind Maren's desk woke up with an angry whir.
A sheet slid out.
Then another.
Maren took them immediately, like they were evidence.
She glanced down.
Her eyes moved fast.
Then she nodded once.
"This works," she said.
Nora's shoulders loosened by a fraction.
Not relief.
Permission.
A knock landed on the door.
Two taps.
Polite.
Like this was his office.
Maren didn't move right away.
She looked at the security officer.
He hesitated.
Then he stepped forward and opened the door.
Professor Aldridge entered as if he'd been invited.
Gray coat.
Neat scarf.
A folder under his arm.
Perfect posture.
Perfect face.
He smiled at Maren first.
"Maren," he said, warm. "I heard there's an incident. I wanted to ensure everyone is supported."
Supported.
Ethan hated how good the word sounded in his mouth.
Aldridge's gaze swept the room.
Nora.
Ethan.
Priya.
Marcus.
Daniel.
The officer.
He lingered on Daniel for a half beat.
Not recognition.
Appraisal.
Then his eyes landed on Ethan.
Aldridge's smile widened, like he was delighted by Ethan's presence.
"Mr. Cross," he said. "Good. You're here."
Ethan didn't answer.
Maren gestured to the chair across from her.
"Professor," she said. "Sit."
Aldridge sat.
He placed his folder on his knees.
Calm.
Prepared.
He looked at Nora.
"Ms. Chen," he said softly. "I'm so sorry you're dealing with this."
Nora didn't react.
Not a blink.
Not a flinch.
Her face stayed boring.
Clean.
Ethan felt a flash of pride so sharp it almost scared him.
Aldridge turned to Maren.
"I assume this relates to the writing community," he said. "There's been chatter."
Maren's voice stayed flat.
"It relates to extortion and unauthorized access to private materials," she said. "We're documenting."
Aldridge nodded gravely.
"Of course," he said. "Terrible. We must protect our students."
Protect.
Another beautiful word.
Another clean lie.
Priya shifted.
Ethan saw her jaw tighten.
He silently begged her not to speak.
Priya loved a fight.
Aldridge loved making fights look like tantrums.
Maren slid Nora's printed statement across the desk.
"This is the incident statement," Maren said. "You were tagged in a scheduled post. We're issuing this preemptively."
Aldridge picked it up.
He read.
His face didn't change.
Only his eyes did.
They got brighter.
Like he'd found an angle.
He looked up.
"This is very… clinical," he said.
Maren's gaze didn't move.
"That's the point," she said.
Aldridge smiled.
"Of course," he said. "But clinical statements can invite speculation. The community may imagine worse."
Priya made a small sound.
Maren's eyes flicked to her.
A warning.
Priya shut up.
Barely.
Aldridge continued, tone gentle.
"If you'll allow," he said, "I could suggest wording that reassures everyone. That frames this as an unfortunate misunderstanding rather than—"
Ethan's jaw tightened.
Misunderstanding.
That was the move.
Reduce.
Soften.
Turn it into gossip.
So the real harm looked like drama.
Maren's voice stayed flat.
"No," she said.
Aldridge blinked.
A micro-second.
The first crack.
Then his smile returned.
"I see," he said. "You want to keep it contained."
Contained.
Ethan heard the hidden meaning.
Contained meant controllable.
Maren leaned back.
"We want to keep it documented," she corrected.
Aldridge nodded.
"Good," he said. "Documentation protects everyone."
Everyone.
A word that always excluded the person in danger.
Aldridge looked at Nora again.
"Ms. Chen," he said. "Do you have any idea who would target you like this?"
Nora's voice came out flat.
"Yes," she said.
Aldridge's eyebrows lifted.
"Oh," he said, pleasantly surprised. "Then we can solve this quickly."
Nora's gaze stayed steady.
"It's the runner," she said. "Alias Cal. He demanded cash. He threatened to leak my private writing. He followed us into Whitmore Hall."
Aldridge nodded as if he'd expected that.
"And why," Aldridge asked softly, "would anyone believe he has something valuable enough to leak?"
There.
The knife.
He wanted her to define the content.
To speak it.
Out loud.
In front of witnesses.
In front of Maren.
In front of campus safety.
Ethan felt his body go hot.
Priya's nails dug into her own palm.
Marcus stared at the carpet like he wanted to vanish.
Daniel looked like he might throw up.
Maren's voice cut in.
"That's not relevant," Maren said.
Aldridge smiled.
"It's relevant to motive," he said. "And to assessing harm."
He turned to the officer.
"Surely you agree," Aldridge said.
The officer looked trapped.
He glanced at Maren.
Maren's gaze stayed on Aldridge.
"No," Maren said.
Aldridge blinked again.
A second crack.
He smoothed it over with charm.
"Maren," he said, almost affectionate. "We're on the same team."
Priya finally spoke, voice bright and dangerous.
"Teams are for sports," Priya said. "This is a file."
Aldridge's eyes flicked to her.
For the first time, his smile didn't reach.
"Ms. Kapoor," he said. "Always passionate."
Priya smiled.
"Always documented," she replied.
Maren's pen scratched.
Good.
Aldridge's gaze returned to Nora.
He leaned forward slightly.
Not looming.
Just enough.
"Ms. Chen," he said softly, "if your private writing is being used as leverage, the cleanest way to neutralize that is transparency."
Transparency.
The holy word.
Visibility.
He was stealing their armor.
Ethan felt something inside him snap into clarity.
Aldridge didn't want to stop the leak.
He wanted to force the confession.
He wanted Nora to speak her pages in an official room.
So the runner's threat became irrelevant.
So Aldridge owned the narrative.
Ethan's voice came out calm.
"That's not transparency," he said. "That's coercion."
Maren's head turned toward him.
Warning.
But Aldridge smiled, delighted.
"Mr. Cross," he said. "Strong word."
Ethan didn't look away.
"It's accurate," Ethan said.
Aldridge leaned back, still smiling.
"You see," he said to Maren, "this is why I came. Emotions are running high. A calm, guided conversation could prevent—"
Maren cut him off.
"No," she said.
Aldridge blinked.
Then he laughed softly.
"Very well," he said. "Then I'll be direct."
His smile faded.
Not anger.
Authority.
"I am the chair of this program," Aldridge said. "The Aldridge Prize is administered through my office. If there is compromised material circulating under my name, I have a responsibility to intervene."
Maren's voice stayed flat.
"You have a responsibility not to contaminate an extortion investigation," she said.
Aldridge's eyes narrowed.
He glanced at the printed incident statement.
Then he said the line Ethan had been waiting for.
"Ms. Chen," Aldridge said softly, "give me the pages."
Silence.
Nora didn't blink.
Ethan felt the whole room hold its breath.
Nora's voice came out flat.
"No," she said.
Aldridge's smile returned.
Not warm.
Administrative.
"I can suspend you from prize consideration pending review," Aldridge said. "For your protection, of course. To keep the scholarship office from making decisions based on rumor."
Priya made a sound like a laugh that died.
Maren's pen froze.
Ethan's stomach turned.
Aldridge wasn't threatening with fire.
He was threatening with forms.
Aldridge turned his gaze to Maren.
"Surely you agree," he said softly. "A pause is reasonable."
Maren didn't blink.
"A pause used as leverage is not reasonable," she said.
Aldridge nodded like she'd made a good point in a seminar.
"Then give me the pages," he repeated.
Nora's voice stayed flat.
"No," she said again.
Aldridge's smile widened.
A clean blade.
"Then," he said, "I suppose we'll all read them at seven."