Chapter 120 120

Chapter 120 120
\[Alessandro 's POV\]

The rejection email arrives three days later.

I stare at my phone, reading the words over and over as if repetition might change their meaning. After careful consideration... highly competitive pool... position has been offered to another candidate... wish you the best in your future endeavors. The language is boilerplate, offering nothing in the way of explanation, no hint of what shifted between the enthusiasm of the morning session and the coldness of the afternoon.

"Alessandro ?" Selena appears in the doorway of our home office, her face creased with concern, one hand resting on her belly where Meghancontinues her slow work of becoming. "You've been in here for an hour. Is everything okay?"

"Stanford passed." The words taste like ash in my mouth, bitter and wrong. "They went with someone else."

She crosses the room and wraps her arms around me from behind, her growing belly pressing against my back in a way that would be comforting under other circumstances. Right now, all I can feel is the hollow ache of disappointment—not just at losing the job, but at the mystery of how I lost it.

"I'm so sorry," she murmurs against my shoulder, her breath warm through the fabric of my shirt. "I know how much this meant to you."

"It's fine." The lie is automatic, a reflex built over years of pretending to be okay when I wasn't. "It was always a long shot, and we knew that going in."

"You don't have to pretend with me."

I don't respond. The truth is, I don't know how to feel. Disappointed, yes. Confused, definitely. But underneath those surface emotions, something darker is stirring—a suspicion that I can't quite shake, no matter how paranoid it makes me sound.

Caden finds us in the same position twenty minutes later, Selena still holding me while I stare at the email I've now memorized. He takes one look at my face and sighs, settling into the chair across from my desk with the kind of careful deliberation that tells me he's already preparing to problem-solve.

"I'm guessing it's not good news."

"They rejected me." I turn my phone toward him, letting him read for himself. "Generic language, no explanation, just... done."

His brow furrows as he scans the message, his analytical mind clearly parsing every word for hidden meaning. "This is strange. Based on what you told us about the interview, you were practically their first choice."

"Until I wasn't."

"Until Dean Mitchell got that phone call," Selena says quietly, voicing the thought that's been circling in my head for days. She's been thinking about it too—I can see it in her eyes, the same suspicion I've been trying to dismiss. "That's when everything changed, right? Before the call, they loved you. After, she couldn't wait to get you out of the room."

"I keep coming back to that moment." I rub my eyes, exhausted from days of replaying the same scene, analyzing every micro-expression, every shift in tone. "Someone said something to her. Something that made me radioactive overnight."

"Do you have any idea who?" Caden asks, his voice careful and measured. "Any enemies in the academic world? Competitors who might want to sabotage you?"

The question makes me pause. Academia is competitive, yes, and I've had my share of professional disagreements over the years. But actual enemies? People who would actively work to destroy my career?

Only one name surfaces. One person with the motive, the connections, and the particular vindictiveness required.

"Dr. Vanelope," I say slowly, the realization crystallizing even as I speak it, the pieces falling into place with sickening clarity. "What if it’s her, since she managed to screw up my work within minutes. It didn’t matter how professional I was, she always—. She said I was throwing away my career over... complications."

Selena stiffens against me, her arms tightening around my shoulders. "Complications. Meaning us."

"Meaning you, specifically. She thought my relationship was unprofessional, unbecoming of a serious scholar. She warned me that it would follow me, damage my reputation, make it harder to advance." 

I remember the conversation now with painful clarity—Vanelope cold eyes, her precise words, the threat wrapped in concern. "She said I'd regret prioritizing my personal life over my professional obligations."

"And you think she's behind this?" Caden's voice is careful, but I can hear the edge underneath, the anger he's trying to contain. "You think she called Stanford and... what? Told them something that made them reconsider?"

"I don't know." The admission costs me something, acknowledging the possibility that someone would go to such lengths to hurt me. "I have no proof. Just a feeling—the timing, the way Mitchell's questions changed, the focus on my 'stability' and 'personal circumstances.' It felt like someone had poisoned the well."

The room falls silent as the implications settle over us. If Vanelopeis actively working to sabotage my career—reaching out to potential employers, sharing information meant to damage me—then Stanford isn't an isolated incident. It's a preview of what's to come. Every interview, every application, every professional opportunity could be met with the same mysterious resistance.

"We should find out for certain," Selena says finally, her voice steady despite the fear I can see in her eyes. "Before we assume the worst. There might be another explanation."

"How would we even verify it?" I ask. "Call Dean Mitchell and ask if someone contacted her about me? That's not exactly professional."

"No, but there are other ways. People in your field who might have heard rumors. Colleagues who could investigate discreetly." Caden is already thinking tactically, approaching the problem like the puzzle it is, his mind working through possibilities and contingencies. "If Vanelope is spreading information about you, she's not doing it in a vacuum. Someone will have noticed."

"And if she is?"

The question hangs in the air, unanswered.

I look between them—these two people who have become my family, who are building a life with me that Vanelope apparently considers threatening enough to destroy—and feel something harden in my chest. Anger, yes. But also determination. If someone is working against us, we need to know. We need to understand what we're facing.

"I'll make some calls," I decide. "Old colleagues, mentors, people who might have heard something. If there's a whisper campaign happening, I'll find it."

"And if you do?" Selena asks, her hand finding mine and squeezing tight. "What then?"

I don't have an answer yet. All I have is the growing certainty that the walls closing in around my career aren't accidental. That somewhere, in the professional network I've spent years building, someone is pulling strings to watch me fall.

And if I had to bet on who's holding those strings, I'd bet everything on Vanelope.

The phone in my hand feels heavier now, the rejection email still glowing on the screen. I close it and set the device aside, turning to face my partners with resolve I'm gathering piece by piece.

"Something's not right," I say quietly. "Someone's not happy about the life we're building, and they're willing to do whatever it takes to tear it down."