Chapter 98 Her mistakes are public.
Katherine moved with the grace of a predator. She walked slowly until she stopped in front of Claire, holding her gaze so deeply and coldly that it seemed to pierce her rival's soul.
“Nowadays, is it common to condemn someone without evidence?” Her voice was a soft whisper, but it carried the weight of an impending storm.
Claire felt an involuntary shiver. That aura... how could an ordinary girl emanate such authority? She took a deep breath, trying to catch her breath that Katherine's gaze had stolen from her.
“Every word I said is backed up by facts!” Claire spat out the words, seeking courage in the presence of her followers.
“Mirela knows your murky past; she is living proof of who you are. Jessica? Her mistakes are public knowledge. And as for this Cristiane Pedrozo... it's no secret that her parents are low-class. The apple doesn't fall far from the tree! Which of you three have I harmed by telling the truth?”
She let out a nasal laugh, laden with venom.
“If what I say isn't true, why are you so angry?”
At that moment, Cristiane stepped forward, her eyes teary, but her voice firm.
“This has nothing to do with them. If you want to attack someone, attack me.”
Jessica frowned, fury dilating her nostrils.
“What the hell, girl! Have you gone crazy? Are you just going to stand there and let these people humiliate you?”
Cristiane lowered her head, silence being her only defense. Seeing the girl's hesitation, Claire lunged like a viper, reaching out to grab Cristiane's wrist and force her into a confession.
But her hand never reached its destination.
In a movement so fast that the eyes of those present could barely follow, Claire's wrist was intercepted in midair. Katherine was holding her.
The shock was universal. Katherine's speed was superhuman.
She squeezed Claire's wrist casually, without apparent effort, but the pressure was agonizing. With a sharp movement, she pulled her hand away from her rival, her eyes shining like blades of ice.
“There are surveillance cameras everywhere here,” Katherine said, her voice devoid of any emotion. “Check them and everything will become clear.”
Claire staggered backward, her arm numb. Katherine's touch hadn't seemed violent, but the residual force left her trembling.
“Then let's see!” Claire shouted, her face red with anger. “I bet you're scared to death!”
Katherine glanced sideways at Cristiane, who looked tiny amid the commotion. Then she turned back to Claire.
“I have nothing to fear.”
“Great!” Claire sneered. “When the evidence comes to light and the theft is confirmed, if you don't kneel and beg for my forgiveness, I will personally ensure that the school expels you!”
Katherine lifted the corners of her lips slightly. That casual, frivolous smile softened her coldness, making her even more dangerously beautiful.
“Fair enough. But if it is proven that she was wrongfully accused... you will also kneel and apologize to her. In front of everyone.”
“Me? Apologize to that trash?” Claire snorted, disdainfully. “You're delusional.”
At that moment, an authoritative voice echoed through the hallway:
“What's going on here? Why aren't you training?”
A man in his thirties, though he looked forty due to stress and thinning hair, approached. It was Mr. Curtis, the leader of the IT team and responsible for the elite of the Olympics class.
“Mr. Curtis!” Mirela stepped forward, assuming an air of wronged victimhood. “These three are from Class 8. Cristiane came to our floor with a lame excuse about getting water. Soon after, Claire's expensive imported lipstick disappeared. She was the only one here. When we questioned her, these two showed up to intimidate us.”
Mr. Curtis gave little Cristiane a stern look.
“Why did you come here to get water?”
“There was no water on our floor, sir...” Cristiane muttered, cowering. “I swear I didn't take anything. I didn't even go into their classroom.”
“Enough talk,” Claire interrupted.
“Check the recordings. We're in the computer room, it's simple.”
Mr. Curtis, impatient with the teenage drama, led the group inside. Katherine stayed behind, watching indifferently as he operated the security system. The images appeared on the monitor.
Just as Cristiane appeared in the hallway, the image suddenly crackled.
The screen was filled with static “snowflakes.” When the video returned to normal, Cristiane was already standing in front of the water cooler. The crucial interval was gone.
“What happened to the middle part?!” Claire shouted in disbelief.
“Someone deleted it...” whispered a student in the back.
Mr. Curtis frowned, his fingers flying across the keyboard.
“The file has been corrupted or tampered with. I can't restore it right now,” he sighed, glancing at his watch. Time was precious for Olympic training. “We'll fix this after class. You three, leave. We have an important class starting now.”
Jessica let out a laugh of pure scorn, crossing her arms over her chest.
“Don't you call yourselves the ‘geniuses’ of computer science?” she taunted, her eyes sparkling with mockery. “You can't even recover a simple video and you still think you have a chance at the Olympics? What a pathetic joke.”
The silence in the room became heavy, while Katherine's gaze remained fixed on the static screen, a glint of superior intelligence sparkling in her pupils. That was just the beginning.
Jessica's contempt struck Mr. Curtis like a slap, leaving the elite students in a seething silence of indignation.
Mr. Curtis turned his inquisitive gaze to Cristiane Pedrozo, his eyebrows knitted together in a line of pure distrust.
“There are dozens of classrooms next to Class 8. Did all the water fountains in the building stop working at the same time?” His tone was sharp, designed to intimidate. “Why would you need to come here, on the Olympics floor?”
Cristiane hesitated. Her lips trembled, but she didn't say a word, as if she were keeping a secret that was suffocating her.
Claire, sensing blood in the air, stepped forward, blocking Cristiane's exit.
“Professor, I told you! It could only have been her. No one else came in here while we were in the meeting.”
I left my things in plain sight, trusting the security of the room.
With that, Claire marched over to her desk with heavy steps. Suddenly, she stopped, her eyes shining as she noticed something on the floor. She bent down, picking up a small object under the watchful eyes of the crowd.
“Claire, what is that?” asked Mr. Curtis, approaching sternly.
Claire opened her palm. There was a simple hair tiara, adorned with worn black beads.
“That... that's not mine!” exclaimed Cristiane, panic rising in her throat.