NORA
Aldridge said it like a bedtime story.
Seven.
Like the clock worked for him.
Like the campus would lean in on cue.
Nora didn't blink.
If she blinked, she'd be human.
If she was human, he'd win.
Maren's pen moved again.
Scratch.
A file growing teeth.
Priya stood so still Nora could feel the heat off her.
Marcus stared at the floor like he was trying to disappear through carpet.
Daniel's knees bounced.
Ethan was a wall beside Nora, not touching, but there.
The campus safety officer cleared his throat like he wanted to call time.
Maren spoke first.
"Professor Aldridge," she said, "you are not a party to this incident report."
Aldridge smiled.
"I was tagged," he said. "My name is being used. That makes me involved."
Maren's voice stayed flat.
"It makes you referenced," she corrected. "It does not make you in charge."
Aldridge's smile didn't move.
"You're being territorial," he said softly, like he was diagnosing her.
Maren didn't flinch.
"I'm being procedural," she replied.
Procedural.
The word Nora loved.
The word Aldridge hated.
Aldridge's gaze slid back to Nora.
"Ms. Chen," he said, "I'm offering you a clean solution."
Clean.
He stole words the way Cal stole screenshots.
Nora's voice came out flat.
"A clean solution for you," she said.
Aldridge's eyebrows lifted.
"Interesting," he murmured.
He liked that she'd spoken.
He liked that he'd pulled a sentence out of her.
Nora hated that too.
Maren held up the printed incident statement.
"This is going out," she said. "You will not edit it."
Aldridge leaned back.
"Then at least let me recommend who receives it," he said. "I can spare the scholarship office unnecessary panic."
Priya let out a sharp laugh.
"Unnecessary panic is your whole brand," she said.
Maren's eyes flicked to Priya.
A warning.
Priya shut up.
Barely.
The campus safety officer stepped in like he'd been waiting for a safe opening.
"Okay," he said. "We need actionable steps. The post is scheduled for seven. We can—"
Ethan cut in, voice calm.
"We can identify the account that scheduled it," Ethan said.
The officer blinked.
"From Slack," he said. "That takes—"
"It doesn't," Priya said.
Everyone looked at her.
Priya lifted her phone.
"Writing Club uses moderators," she said. "Mods can see who pinned. Mods can see who scheduled. If we get one mod in here, they can show it on their device, to Maren, on record."
Maren's eyes narrowed.
"Who are the moderators," she asked.
Priya didn't hesitate.
"Hannah Brooks is one," she said. "And the president is—"
She stopped.
Because everyone already knew.
Aldridge.
His smile widened.
"Complicated," he said softly.
Maren didn't blink.
"Not complicated," she said. "Documentable."
Nora's phone buzzed in her pocket.
Once.
A small animal noise.
Nora didn't move.
Maren's gaze flicked to her.
"Is that him," Maren asked.
Nora nodded once.
"I'm not opening it," Nora said.
Good.
Boring.
Maren's gaze stayed steady.
"Leave it," she said.
Priya was already typing on her own phone.
Not a thread.
One line.
A single ping.
She held it up.
"I'm calling Hannah," Priya said. "Not texting. Calling."
Maren nodded.
"Speaker," Maren said.
Priya hit call.
It rang.
Once.
Twice.
On the third ring, Hannah picked up.
"H-hi," Hannah said.
Her voice was thin.
Like she'd been crying.
Priya's tone went friendly.
Too friendly.
"Hannah," Priya said, "hey. Are you on campus."
A pause.
"Yes," Hannah said. "Why."
Priya glanced at Maren.
"Can you come to Whitmore Hall," Priya said. "Maren Ellis is here. Campus safety is here. It's about the Writing Club Slack. There's a scheduled post."
Silence.
Then Hannah whispered, "Oh my God."
Priya's smile sharpened.
"So you saw it," she said.
Hannah's voice broke.
"I didn't do it," she said fast. "I didn't pin it. I swear. I told them to take it down but—"
Them.
Plural.
Nora's stomach tightened.
Maren's voice cut in, calm.
"Hannah," Maren said. "This is Maren Ellis. I need you to come in person with your device. I need to see moderator view. Can you do that."
Hannah swallowed.
"Yes," she whispered. "Yes. I'm coming."
Maren nodded.
"Do not message anyone first," Maren added.
Hannah's breath hitched.
"Okay," she said.
Priya ended the call.
Aldridge smiled.
"You're escalating," he said.
Maren looked at him.
"No," she said. "We're documenting."
Aldridge's eyes narrowed.
He tapped his folder once against his knee.
A quiet threat.
Then he looked at Nora.
"If you insist on refusing transparency," Aldridge said softly, "then you are choosing chaos."
Nora's voice stayed flat.
"No," she said. "I'm choosing evidence."
Aldridge's smile twitched.
A micro-tell.
Then he stood.
Everyone stiffened.
He didn't lunge.
He just adjusted his scarf.
"I will not sit here and watch you sabotage your own standing," he said, voice smooth. "If the scholarship office receives a statement implying misconduct in my program, they will react."
Maren's gaze went cold.
"Our statement implies extortion," she said.
Aldridge smiled.
"Words travel," he replied. "And rumors travel faster."
He turned toward the door.
Then paused.
He looked back at Nora.
"You have until seven," he said softly.
And then he left.
The door clicked.
The room exhaled.
Priya muttered, "He's going to do something."
Ethan's voice was low.
"He already did," Ethan said.
Nora's phone buzzed again.
This time, twice.
A follow-up.
Nora kept it in her pocket.
Maren watched her.
"Do you have a second device," Maren asked.
Nora blinked once.
"Yes," she said.
Maren nodded.
"Good," she said. "Because when Hannah gets here, we're going to watch that post together. And when it goes live, we're going to know exactly who pressed publish."
Nora's stomach tightened.
Because Cal didn't need to press publish.
He'd already scheduled it.
All he needed to do now was watch them react.
And somewhere on campus, a hoodie was smiling.
Nora finally pulled her phone out.
Not to read.
To show Maren the lock screen.
Four missed notifications from the burner number.
Maren didn't touch it.
She just read the previews.
The newest one was three words.
CHECK THE PRINTER.
Nora's stomach dropped.
Because the printer was behind Maren's desk.
Because it had already printed.
Because it had already fed paper into the world.
Priya's head snapped toward it.
Marcus whispered, "No."
Ethan moved first.
He reached the printer tray and froze.
A new sheet sat on top of everything, perfectly aligned, as if it belonged.
Typed.
No header.
No signature.
Just one line in the center.
YOU CAN DOCUMENT A FIRE. IT STILL BURNS.
And beneath it, smaller, like a footnote.
SEE YOU AT SEVEN.