Chapter 63

Chapter 63
The Westbrook Academy case spread like wildfire, creating ripples that reached far beyond what anyone had anticipated. The police commissioner had issued a direct order: solve the case within one week. Every officer, regardless of department or rank, was mobilized to assist with the investigation.
From dawn, Michael had been in constant motion, interviewing students, faculty, and staff. His auxiliary officer badge granted him limited access, but he made the most of it, speaking with as many people as possible.
Of course, he had read Georgiana's article. Had watched its impact unfold across social media and news platforms. He both admired her courage and worried about the consequences she might face. He had expected her to at least ask his opinion before publishing something so explosive.
In just one day, Michael had interviewed more than fifteen students.
Not one provided any useful information regarding Mr. Thornton's alleged abuse.
During a brief lunch break, Michael read Georgiana's article again. On his third reading, he noticed a seemingly insignificant detail buried in the transcript:
"...when I reported him to the academic director, she just yelled at me and sent me back..."
Michael immediately requested permission to interview the academic director again. His superior, though skeptical, reluctantly agreed.
The woman received him in her office.
The dark circles beneath her eyes suggested she hadn't slept well since the scandal erupted.
"I've already spoken with several officers," she said, gesturing toward a chair across from her desk. "I'm not sure what else I can add."
"I understand, ma'am," Michael replied, his voice calm and respectful. "I just need to clarify one point. Did any student ever file a complaint against Mr. Thornton?"
"Absolutely not," she answered without hesitation. "In my fifteen years as academic director, I've never received a single complaint about his teaching methods. He's won multiple teaching awards."
"Have you ever discussed Mr. Thornton's behavior with students?"
Her expression hardened. "I don't recall every conversation I've had with students, Officer Hall. But I can assure you, no formal complaints were ever filed."
Michael nodded, noting her careful wording. She hadn't directly denied speaking with Joseph—only that no "formal complaints" existed.
Back at the station, Michael methodically reviewed hundreds of interview transcripts collected by his colleagues. Nothing supported Joseph's allegations. On the contrary, dozens of students described Mr. Thornton as strict but fair, even inspirational. Several expressed resentment toward Nicholas, suggesting his suicide had tarnished the school's reputation.
The truth seemed to be tilting toward a conclusion Michael feared: that Georgiana had been misled by a troubled student with a personal vendetta.
"All this because of a reporter who made things up," complained a nearby officer. "They've withheld our monthly bonuses because of this mess. Someone should tell that reporter what she's cost us."
Michael remained silent, continuing his review of the files.
Later that afternoon, Michael visited the detective division, hoping to review Mr. Thornton's statement. Most officers ignored him—auxiliary officers rarely ventured into their territory—but he spotted a familiar face: Detective Nathan Reynolds, who had been present during the mall incident.
"Detective Reynolds," Michael approached him carefully. "I was wondering if I could review Mr. Thornton's statement."
"That's classified information, Hall," Reynolds replied without looking up from his desk. "This isn't your case."
Michael hesitated before continuing. "The reporter who wrote the article—she's a friend of mine. I'm concerned she might have been... manipulated."
Reynolds finally looked up, staring at Michael.
After a moment, he sighed and reached into his desk drawer. "Five minutes," he said, handing over a thin folder. "And this conversation never happened."
Georgiana stared at her computer in disbelief. Every platform where she had published her article now displayed the same message: "Content unavailable." Her piece had been erased from the internet, leaving no trace except in screenshots circulating on social media.
She wasn't naive about how the world worked, she understood the unwritten rules of society. But witnessing how quickly her work could be removed still shocked her.
Her phone vibrated with an incoming call from Catherine. Georgiana hesitated before answering.
"Have you lost your mind?" Catherine screamed. "Do you want to destroy your career? Is that your goal?"
"Mom, I—"
"You've worked so hard," Catherine continued, her voice tightly controlled. "The awards, the recognition—you're finally getting the respect you deserve. And now you risk everything on unverified accusations from a troubled teenager?"
Georgiana closed her eyes, letting her mother's words wash over her. "I verified what I could. Joseph provided evidence—"
"Evidence?" Catherine scoffed. "Text messages that could easily be fabricated? A blurry video where nothing is clear? That's not journalism, Georgiana. That's activism."
This word stung. "Sometimes journalism requires taking a stand," Georgiana replied quietly.
"Take a stand on your own time, not with CNN's reputation," Catherine snapped before hanging up.
Moments later, Thompson appeared beside her desk. "My office. Now."
She followed him silently, already knowing what was coming.
"They want the boy's information," Thompson said once the door closed behind them. "All of it—name, address, phone number. And they want you to publish a retraction today. End this online firestorm before it gets worse."
Georgiana didn't respond.
"This isn't negotiable," Thompson continued, his expression grim. "Higher-ups are involved now. The calls I've been getting..." He trailed off, shaking his head.
"I understand," Georgiana said softly, gathering her things to leave.
By evening, exhaustion had settled deep in her bones. Mentally and physically drained, Georgiana approached her apartment building, only to find Robert and Martha waiting by the entrance. Her body immediately tensed, prepared for another confrontation.
But Robert simply reached out and gently stroked her hair, his expression warm. "You haven't been home in days," he said softly. "Martha thought you might need a home-cooked meal. We were worried you might not be eating properly."
This unexpected kindness nearly broke her composure. They settled inside her apartment, Martha busying herself in the kitchen while Robert asked mundane questions about her daily life—if she was sleeping enough, if she needed anything for the apartment, if she'd heard from Emma recently.
Eventually, the conversation circled back to what they'd really come to discuss.
"You've become quite influential," Robert began carefully as they ate. "Your words carry weight now. That's a positive thing, but influence is a double-edged sword. With recognition comes responsibility. You need to be more cautious about what you publish—your future depends on it."
Georgiana's fork paused mid-air. "My future is my responsibility," she replied evenly.
Martha could no longer contain herself. "But what about your father's job? What if there are consequences for him? How will the family manage then? Have you thought about that?"
Georgiana's head snapped up, suddenly alert. "Has someone been pressuring you?" she asked Robert directly.
He didn't answer, setting down his utensils with a troubled expression. "Georgiana, please write a retraction. Just say you may have been misinformed."
"Georgiana, why must you be so stubborn?" Martha pleaded, her voice rising. "You've made your name, you've won your awards. But your father and I—and Emma—still have to live our lives here. People can't be completely selfish, can they? You've created such a huge controversy. If something happens, you'll regret it when it's too late!"
"I only recorded what I saw and heard," Georgiana defended herself. "I didn't even include my personal feelings. Where did I go wrong? The school is lying, the academic director is lying, even the media is lying! I've been fighting them all day. Do you know how I feel? Do you care if I've been hurt or humiliated? You're my family—why can't you support me?"
Robert's fist slammed against the table, causing a glass to shatter. "You young people who've just entered society, still carrying that student mentality, always talking about fighting against something! Having ideals is good, but you need to see reality clearly. You're all slogans—fairness, truth—what are these things, really? I don't think any of you could properly explain!"
Georgiana stared at him, profound disappointment flickering in her eyes. "I've been writing since I was little, recording things simply because I loved it. I never had grand ambitions. You were the one always lecturing me about using writing to change society, about standing firm for what's right. Weren't those your words? Now it seems in your heart, those were just ways to gain recognition? Get famous, then quietly collect the benefits—is that it?"
Without waiting for his response, Georgiana stormed out, slamming the door behind her.