Chapter 205

Chapter 205
Stella:

The post went live ninety minutes later.

I was helping pack up the photo station equipment when my phone started buzzing.

Once. Twice. Ten times in rapid succession.

Emily's name flashed on the screen. I answered immediately.

"Stella." Her voice was tight. "Check the gossip app. Now."

My hands shook as I pulled it up.

Anonymous: PROOF that Dr. Stella Morrison has been in an inappropriate relationship with student Noah Carter. Look at this photo from TODAY. The way they're looking at each other? This has been going on for YEARS. She's been abusing her position of power and lying to everyone. #SaveOurStudents #TitleIX

The photo was devastating in its simplicity.

Chloe had cropped it perfectly—just Noah and me, standing close, his body angled slightly toward mine. The way the photographer had caught us mid-conversation made it look intimate.

My expression was soft, unguarded in a way I never allowed myself to be on campus.

And Noah's eyes—god, the way he was looking at me—there was no mistaking that for professional courtesy.

She'd cut out everyone else. Zoe, Jason, Linda, Robert—all evidence that this was a family photo—gone.

It looked exactly like what it was: two people who were in love, caught in an unguarded moment.

The comments were already spiraling.

I KNEW something was wrong with her. She's always been too "friendly" with certain students.

This is disgusting. She should be fired immediately.

How long has this been going on? Since he was a freshman? That's predatory.

Someone needs to report this to the dean and Title IX office RIGHT NOW.

I forced myself to breathe slowly, methodically.

Years of navigating close calls had taught me to compartmentalize, to think strategically even when panic threatened to overwhelm me.

"Emily," I said, my voice remarkably steady. "Can you delete it?"

"I'm working on it now," she said, and I could hear her keyboard clattering. "But Stella, it's been up for an hour and twenty minutes. It's everywhere. Screenshots in at least a dozen group chats. Someone already sent it to the department chair."

"What's the damage assessment?"

"Bad. But maybe not catastrophic." Emily paused. "Noah graduated this morning—he's not your student anymore. So there's no ongoing violation happening right now."

"But if they investigate the timeline—"

"Then it gets complicated," she finished. "His enrollment status today doesn't erase the past four years. If they want to build a case about when the relationship started, graduation won't protect you."

I closed my eyes briefly.

She was right. The question wasn't whether Noah was currently my student. The question was whether we'd been involved while he was enrolled—and we had been.

For three and a half years.

"Stella, I need to ask you something, and I need you to be honest with me."

I waited.

"Is there any truth to this?"

The question was careful, professional. Emily wasn't accusing—she was gathering information.

I recognized the tone because I used it myself when students came to my office with problems they weren't ready to admit.

"The photo was taken during a family group shot," I said evenly. "Zoe asked me to join. There were six of us. Whoever posted this cropped out everyone else to create a false narrative."

"That's not what I asked."

I closed my eyes briefly.

Emily had been helping us for years without knowing the full truth—she ran the campus gossip platform as a side project from her sociology research, had built it as a study on information networks and social dynamics.

At first, she'd just been doing what any friend would do—deleting obviously false rumors about people she knew. But over time, I'd noticed her interventions becoming more strategic when Noah's name appeared.

A post about him and me at a coffee shop off campus? Gone within an hour.

Speculation about why he was always in my office hours? Redirected to a discussion about his research interests.

She'd never asked for confirmation. But she'd clearly suspected something.

"What are you asking, Emily?"

"I'm asking if I need to prepare for this to get worse. If there's anything else that might come out." Her voice softened slightly. "I'm on your side, Stella. But I need to know what I'm working with."

I made a split-second decision.

"The photo is misleading. I'm close with Zoe's family because she's my friend. That's all anyone needs to know."

"Okay." She didn't push. "I'm posting the full photo with context in five minutes. I have mod access to the platform—I built it, after all. And I'm going to trace the IP of whoever posted this."

"It's Chloe."

"You're sure?"

"I saw her taking photos during the group shot. And she's had a grudge since Noah turned her down junior year."

Emily exhaled. "That actually helps. I can build a harassment narrative. Give me two hours."

She hung up.

I sat there, staring at my phone as the comments continued to multiply.

Someone had dug up old posts from freshman year. Another person was calling for a formal investigation.

My phone buzzed again. A text from the department chair: We need to talk. My office, Monday morning, 9 AM.

Then another buzz. The dean's assistant: Dean Rodriguez requests a meeting with you at your earliest convenience. Please respond to schedule.

I responded to both with professional courtesy, confirming the meetings.

Then I turned my phone to silent and went back to packing up equipment.