Chapter 36 The Supplemental Review and the Osei Truth

Chapter 36 The Supplemental Review and the Osei Truth
Declan

I usually walked into these things ready for a fight. Ready to stare someone down, make them blink first. But today felt… different. Heavy, somehow, even though it was just Ms. Osei’s office. I had my portfolio tucked under my arm. My posture was stiff, controlled.

Ms. Osei was already at her desk when I walked in. She wasn’t looking at me. She was looking at my portfolio. It was open to the essay page. My stomach tightened. There was a sticky note stuck right there. I strained to read it. ‘The green light as warning... discuss.’ What the hell did that mean? Was she grading me right now? I sat down in the chair she usually kept for people who were about to get bad news. She closed the portfolio. Slowly. 

"Mr. Moss." Her voice was flat. Not mad, not nice. Just… flat.

"Ms. Osei." I kept my own voice even. 

"I read your essay."

"I'm aware." I gripped the armrests. My brain was already trying to figure out her angle. Was it too aggressive? Too personal? I’d put everything in that damn thing.

"I'm not here to evaluate it as a board member."

That stopped me cold. That wasn't the play. That wasn't what I’d prepped for. "What are you here to evaluate?" I asked, my voice a little rougher than I wanted.

She leaned forward just a little. Not an aggressive move, more like she was trying to tell me something important, something quiet. "I'm here to talk to you. About the essay, and about some things I found that I think you deserve to know."

I didn't move a muscle. Didn't even breathe, I don’t think. This was a curveball. A big one. "What things?"

"My sister is a care coordinator."

I just stared at her. What did that have to do with anything? My mind raced, trying to connect the dots. My sister. My sister's care. "Okay?"

"Three weeks ago," Osei went on, "I was reviewing some internal files. Standard procedure. My sister's name. Your sister's name. A match."

The air went out of my lungs. Like someone had punched me. My sister. Lilly. "What are you saying?"

"I recognized your name, Mr. Moss. In her care coordination file. It's a system, you see. Referrals come in, assignments are made. Usually, it's pretty random, based on availability, specialization." She kept her voice even, like she was reading from a report. But my gut was screaming. "But I flagged the connection. Something felt… off. So, I ran a backward trace."

A backward trace. What the hell was that? My brain was working fast, trying to catch up to her calm words. She didn't have to explain it like an argument, with drama. 

"The scholarship file access log," she continued. "The date of the first contact with Marcus. The timing of your conversation with Deon. It all lined up."

"You found the irregularity." My voice was a whisper. It was almost a question, but I already knew the answer. My breath hitched.

"Yes."

"Before I did." That was the kicker. I’d been chasing ghosts, and she’d already found the whole damn monster.

"You didn't have access to the same records." She watched me, her eyes unblinking.

"Is my sister's care compromised?" The words were out before I could even think them. That was my first thought. Always. Lilly. Is she okay? Is someone messing with her? My hands clenched, my knuckles white.

"No. My sister is good at her job regardless of who assigned her." A tiny bit of warmth entered her voice then. Just a flicker. 

"But someone placed her there." Not randomly. Not by chance.

"Someone submitted the referral. Yes."

"Why?" The anger was starting to bubble, hot and sharp. 

"To create a leverage point. If your scholarship was awarded and someone then surfaced a connection between you and the board representative's family..."

"It would look like a conflict of interest." I finished her sentence. My mind was suddenly crystal clear. I saw it all, laid out like a dark map.

"It would invalidate the award."

"Someone planted the connection to be triggered after I won." After I’d done all the work. After I’d earned it. To yank it out from under me. To make me fall.

"Yes."

"That's... that's a specific kind of patient." That was low. That was dirty. You don’t mess with sick kids. You just don’t.

"Yes." Osei nodded, her gaze firm. "It is."

I felt like I was drowning, but she kept talking, pulling me up. "I requested this supplemental review on your file. I did it to create a formal, dated record of your eligibility. Before anyone could surface the planted connection."

My brain was still trying to process the first part. Someone planted my sister’s care. To blackmail me. To ruin me. But then, what Osei said next… it clicked. "You protected the record."

"I did my job correctly." She didn’t smile. Didn’t look proud. Just… matter-of-fact.

"You went out of your way to..." I started, but she cut me off.

"You wrote an essay about a warning mistaken for a destination." Her eyes finally softened, just a little. Like she really saw me. Not the kid with the reputation, not the candidate. Just… me. "I know what it's about. I know what it costs someone to write something that honest. I wasn't going to let someone use my family to compromise that."

I didn’t say anything for a long moment. My throat felt thick. All that anger, all that fear, it was suddenly mixed with something else. Something warm and… unexpected. I hadn't expected anyone to get it. Not really. And certainly not Ms. Osei. "Thank you." The words felt small, but they were real.

"Don't thank me. Keep your record clean." She said it like an order. Like a warning. But it felt different now. 

"Yes."

She leaned back in her chair, a slight shift. "The access point was someone on the football team."

My jaw tightened. Football team. Who? My mind started racing again, sifting through faces. Who hated me enough? Who was connected enough?

"I want you to arrive at the name yourself," she continued, "before I confirm it. Because I need you to understand it was careless, before you decide what to do with it."

Careless. Not malice, then? Not pure evil? That was… a twist I hadn’t seen coming. My enemies usually were pretty clear. Mean, on purpose.

"Think about who had access to Hargrove's files," she said. Hargrove. "Who asked you recently about your scholarship status. And who has a family member connected to Marcus's network."

Marcus. 

I walked out of Ms. Osei’s office feeling like I was floating. Or maybe sinking. I wasn’t sure. Getting into my truck, I didn't even bother with the radio. Just silence. The engine hummed, a low vibration under my hands on the wheel.

Access. Question. Family.

Hargrove’s files. Who had access? The TAs. The student helpers. The football team… guys who usually just… helped out.

Who asked me about my scholarship status? Lots of people. But who recently? Who seemed too interested?

And then, the quiet hum of the truck, the low steady thrum, filled my head and got pushed out by a name.

Carson.

It hit me before I was two miles from the building. Carson. My teammate. The easygoing one. The one who was always… around. He sometimes helped Hargrove sort papers. 

And family. Carson’s brother. Liam. Liam who’d sent that stupid photograph of me, the one that caused all the trouble. Liam, who knew Marcus. Liam, who Marcus mentored.

The access point wasn’t an enemy. It was Carson. Carson, who made copies for Hargrove during practice prep. Carson, who probably just grabbed the wrong stack of papers. The wrong file. And then, without thinking, handed it to his brother. Liam.

I stopped at a red light, the glare from the setting sun blinding me for a second. Carson didn't know what he had. He was just… careless. But Marcus. Marcus did. Marcus saw the potential. Saw the weakness. Saw the leverage.