Chapter 116 Mother's Day
In the end, it was all for nothing.
The connection between the microphone and the speakers had been cut, leaving Blair's voice thin and hollow against the damning recording that played behind her. Each word from the recording was a hammer blow, shattering the fragile scaffolding of her lies.
Her scheme, carefully woven with deceit and manipulation, collapsed completely under the weight of the truth.
Blair's knees buckled. She sank to the polished wooden floor of the stage, the fight draining from her body. Kelly, her closest ally, stood frozen. The color drained from her face as though someone had pulled the life straight out of her.
Jasmine's lips curled into a faint, satisfied smile. She tilted her chin toward Kelly, a subtle challenge in her gaze. "Now... tell me again. Who's the real villain here?"
Kelly's lips trembled, but no sound came. The truth was carved into the air for everyone to see, and any attempt to explain would only sound pathetic. Still, buried deep in her eyes was a flicker of relief.
At least the recording hadn't exposed anything directly about her. Maybe Bianca's earlier threat had been nothing more than a bluff. She clung to that thought, feeding herself comfort like a starving animal hoarding scraps.
But the illusion shattered in the next heartbeat.
The giant screen flashed into a rapid sequence of photographs—each one a brutal snapshot of Blair and her followers committing acts of cruelty. Faces caught mid-laughter as they cornered victims, hands gripping, shoving, mocking. Every frame was a nail driven into Kelly's resolve.
Her confidence crumbled instantly. It was as if someone had poured ice water down her spine. Shivers wracked her body. Without a word, Kelly turned and bolted from the auditorium, her footsteps echoing against the walls until they faded into silence.
Blair remained on the stage, trapped under the weight of hundreds of eyes. She looked nothing like the composed, untouchable queen she had been hours ago. Her hair hung in tangled strands, her shoulders hunched, her elegance stripped away.
Bianca's voice cut through the air, cold and precise, each syllable like a verdict. "The rest of the evidence will go straight to the Dean's office. Academic fraud. Bullying. Blair... your good days are over."
From that day forward, the atmosphere around Bianca shifted. The whispers in the hallways changed tone. Students who had once kept their distance now approached her with hesitant smiles. Passing her in the corridors, they greeted her warmly, as if she had always belonged.
It was a strange, unfamiliar reality. For so long, Melissa and Blair had poisoned her reputation, turning her into a pariah. Now, sympathy had begun to crack that wall.
One afternoon after class, Bianca was packing her books when the girl in front of her turned with a bright smile. "Bianca, we're short one person for the weekend's community project. Would you join us?"
Another voice chimed in from the side. "If you join, it'll be perfect. Your approach to mathematical modeling is brilliant. With you, we could easily score top marks."
Bianca paused, the moment feeling almost unreal. These same people had once treated her like a contagion, avoiding her at all costs. Now they spoke to her as if she were an old friend.
But she had no desire to socialize. Protecting the people she cared about was enough for her.
She smiled politely and shook her head. "I already have plans for the weekend."
Disappointment flickered briefly across the girl's face, but she recovered quickly. "Alright, maybe next time."
Youthful emotions came and went swiftly. Within moments, they were talking about something else.
"Mother's Day is coming up. Have you decided on gifts yet?"
The words hit Bianca like a sudden stab to the chest. Her gaze dropped, shadow falling over her eyes. A quiet ache spread through her, sharp and relentless. She drew in a breath, fighting against the sting rising in her nose. Her grip on her books tightened until her knuckles blanched.
There had been so much chaos lately that she had almost forgotten—her mother's death anniversary was near.
The cause of her mother's death had never been resolved. That unanswered question sat in her chest like a stone that would never move.
Her breathing grew shallow. Her pulse thudded against her ribs. The voices around her blurred, fading into a dull hum as a high, thin ring filled her ears.
She forced herself to stay composed, gathering her belongings quickly before leaving the classroom. Her steps quickened, carrying her past the gates of Ravenswood University, down the street, and into the quiet lobby of her apartment building.
Only when the elevator doors closed did her shoulders drop. The tension uncoiled, and tears threatened to spill.
She pushed open her apartment door—and her phone rang sharply, cutting through the fragile calm.
The name flashing on the screen made her jaw tighten. Glenn.
Her sadness flared into anger. She stared at the glowing letters until the ringtone was seconds from ending, then swiped to answer. "Hello," she said, her voice rough.
"Bianca," Glenn's voice was stiff, almost rehearsed. "Tomorrow is your mother's anniversary. Be home by nine in the morning. We'll go to the cemetery together."
Bianca shut the door with a hard slam. Her tone dripped with sarcasm, her grip on the phone tightening. "How thoughtful of you to remember."
For years, Glenn had been consumed by the Rodriguez Group and his new family. He had missed her mother's anniversary so many times she had lost count. If he was suddenly insisting on going now, there was a reason—and it wasn't sentiment.
A pause hung between them before Glenn spoke again, softer. "I know you're angry. But whatever's happened, it's still your mother's day. You should come."
"I'll go. You don't need to remind me."
She ended the call without waiting for a reply. The phone landed on the couch with a muted thud.
Standing still, she felt her shoulders tremble. The dam broke. Tears spilled freely, hitting the floor in uneven drops.
A faint movement came from behind her. A broad chest pressed gently against her back, arms encircling her shoulders.
The familiar scent unraveled her defenses completely. She turned into Terrence's embrace, burying her face against his shirt. Her tears soaked through the fabric.
"Why are you crying?" Terrence's voice was low, uncertain. "Tell me who upset you... I'll deal with them."
His hand patted her back awkwardly, the rhythm uneven.
Bianca only shook her head. Her tears seeped deeper into his shirt. Terrence's eyes softened with concern, the sight of her pain striking something deep in him.
He tightened his hold, staying silent, letting her lean into him until the storm passed.
When she finally lifted her head, her eyes were rimmed red, her nose flushed pink, her expression fragile—like a small animal startled by sudden light.
"Tomorrow... it's my mother's anniversary." Her voice was thick, each word trembling. "Glenn called. He wants to take me to the cemetery."
Terrence understood instantly. His chest tightened.
He was not a man skilled in comfort, but he raised a hand to wipe away her tears, his fingertips cool against her skin. "I'll go with you."
Her lashes fluttered. Surprise flickered in her eyes. "Won't it interfere with your work?" She hesitated, unused to showing such raw emotion in front of him.
"It won't. You come first."
His palm rested against the back of her head, a gentle pressure grounding her.
The heaviness in her chest eased slightly. Her lips curved faintly. "You're... so good to me."
She wrapped her arms around his waist, pressing her head against his chest.
Terrence's body went rigid, the tips of his ears turning red. He cleared his throat softly, fingers brushing through her hair. "It's what I should do."