Chapter 33
Seraphine closed her laptop, leaned back in her chair, and picked up the glass of water from her desk, taking a sip.
The water was cool, sliding down her throat with a faint, crisp sweetness.
The class chat exploded.
It started with screenshots.
Every passive-aggressive message Rachel and Gaia had posted in the group—timestamped, sender-tagged, laid out one by one.
Then came the private conversations—Rachel and Gaia's exchanges, Rachel and Ondine's chats, Gaia's messages with other followers.
Each screenshot was sharp as a blade, slicing open the faces of those who'd hidden behind their screens.
Sloane scrolled to the end and found the exact messages where Ondine had directed Rachel to do her dirty work.
Sloane jumped out of bed, pacing her dorm room in circles, so agitated she couldn't speak.
She finally understood why Seraphine had been so calm these past few days.
It wasn't that she didn't care. It wasn't that she wasn't angry. She'd been waiting—waiting for all the evidence to come together, waiting for the perfect moment to strike.
The class chat began flooding with messages.
[Oh my God—is that really Rachel and Ondine's chat history?]
[So all those rumors were because Ondine told Rachel to say them? She orchestrated the whole thing?]
Ondine wore a simple white dress. Her hair hung loose, her makeup minimal.
No jewelry. No designer handbag. She looked understated and fragile—like a delicate flower beaten down by wind and rain.
The driver dropped her off at school.
As she stepped out of the car, she took a deep breath, buried all her emotions deep inside, and arranged her face into an expression of wounded innocence.
The moment she walked through the campus gates, eyes turned toward her in unison.
People whispered. Some took photos discreetly. Others walked past her just to turn and stare.
Those gazes pierced her like needles—scrutinizing, disdainful, gleeful, with a few sympathetic looks mixed in.
Ondine didn't look at anyone.
When she entered the academic building, she ran into Rachel.
Rachel stood at a corner of the hallway, her face sallow, dark circles hanging beneath her eyes.
Ondine walked up to her and stopped.
"Ondi…" Rachel's voice was hoarse. "You finally came. I called you so many times, but you didn't pick up. I'm going insane. That bitch Seraphine released the chat logs. The school wants to expel me. This is one of the top design schools in the country—I worked so hard to get in. Ondi, you have to take responsibility. You were the one who told us to do this—"
"Rachel." Ondine cut her off, her voice light but laced with an undeniable coldness. "What are you talking about? I don't understand."
Rachel froze.
Ondine looked at her with a confused expression, as though staring at a stranger.
Her voice remained soft, so quiet only the two of them could hear. "What did I tell you to do? Do you have proof?"
Rachel's face went pale.
She suddenly understood what Ondine meant—the evidence, the chat logs Seraphine had released, did prove that Ondine had directed her.
But if she changed her story, if she claimed she'd made everything up herself, if she took all the blame—then Ondine could walk away clean.
"Ondi, you…" Rachel's voice trembled. "You can't do this. You told us to do it. You sent those messages. The chat logs are all there. You can't deny it."
Ondine tilted her head slightly, a faint smile flickering at the corner of her mouth.
The smile was so subtle it was almost imperceptible—but Rachel saw it, and a chill ran down her spine.
"Chat logs?" Ondine's voice stayed soft. "Who knows if those are real or fake? Photo manipulation is so advanced these days—anything can be forged. You say I told you to do it. Do you have proof? Besides those screenshots, what else do you have?"
Rachel opened her mouth but couldn't speak.
She really didn't have anything else. Those chat logs were all the evidence there was.
If Ondine insisted the screenshots were fabricated, Rachel had nothing to refute her with.
"Rachel," Ondine's voice suddenly softened, as though comforting a wronged friend. "I know you've been under a lot of pressure lately. But think about it—even if you try to shift the blame onto me, will that get you off the hook? The administration has already issued you a disciplinary notice. That won't change. But if you own up to your mistakes and say you acted on your own, that none of this had anything to do with me—at least I won't let you take the fall for nothing. I won't let you get expelled."
Rachel looked into Ondine's eyes.
They were beautiful. Bright. But they held no warmth at all.
Suddenly, Rachel felt like she'd fallen into an ice cellar—cold from head to toe.
She wanted to say no. Wanted to ask why. Wanted to tell the truth.
But then she thought of the Windsor family's influence, of what would happen if she crossed Ondine. It would only get worse for her.
Rachel closed her eyes. Tears slid down her cheeks.
Gaia was cornered by Ondine in the bathroom.
Gaia feared Ondine even more than Rachel did.
Her family ran a small business with countless ties to the Windsor family. If she offended Ondine, her parents' livelihood would be over.
"Gaia," Ondine stood before her, her voice as gentle as coaxing a child, "I know you're a smart person. Smart people know what's best for them."
Gaia kept her head down, not daring to look up.
Ondine reached out and patted her shoulder lightly, as though comforting a frightened animal. "Those chat logs—you don't really know what's going on with them, do you? Rachel told you to say those things. You just went along with it. It has nothing to do with us. Understand?"
Gaia bit her lip and nodded.
She didn't dare do anything else.
During the break, Ondine walked into the classroom.
The moment she appeared in the doorway, every sound in the room stopped.
Dozens of eyes turned toward her. The air felt drained, so quiet you could hear the wind rustling the leaves outside the window.
Ondine kept her head down.
Her eyes were faintly red, her lips pressed lightly together, as though she were someone who'd suffered a great injustice but didn't dare speak of it.
Sloane, sitting beside Seraphine, nearly rolled her eyes into the back of her head.
She lowered her voice and muttered to Seraphine, "Look at her. She's putting on a whole performance."
Seraphine didn't respond. Her gaze stayed fixed on her notebook, her expression unchanged.
Whispers circulated through the room.
"How does she even dare show up?"
"Look at that expression—like she's the victim."
"Victim of what? The chat logs are out there. What's there to cry about?"
"She's saying the screenshots are fake. That someone doctored them to frame her."
"Do you believe that?"
Ondine heard the murmurs. Her ears twitched slightly. She lifted her head, her eyes brimming with unshed tears, as though they might spill over at any moment.