Chapter 107 *
Third Person POV
The Next Morning - 9:02 AM
The College Board's statement dropped exactly on schedule.
Within five minutes, it was everywhere.
CNN picked it up first. Then MSNBC. Fox News. BBC. Every major news outlet.
Social media exploded. But this time, the explosion was different.
@NewsUpdate: BREAKING: College Board clears Scarlett Romano of cheating allegations. Statement confirms her 1600 SAT score is legitimate. Full investigation found "no evidence of impropriety."
The replies came fast.
@StudentAdvocate: HOLD UP. So she actually got a perfect score??? And people just... made shit up???
@TruthMatters2026: I literally shared those tweets calling her a cheater. I feel sick. I owe her an apology.
@AcademicJustice: This is why we don't jump to conclusions. This girl's life was nearly ruined by lies.
@CollegeHopeful: Wait so she's actually a genius? From Montana? Who worked construction to survive? That's... that's insane. That's incredible.
The narrative was shifting. Fast.
Scarlett watched it happen in real-time from her phone.
She was sitting in the breakfast room. Coffee getting cold in front of her. Screen refreshing every few seconds.
@SocialJusticeNow: Everyone who attacked this girl needs to apologize. RIGHT NOW. The damage you've done is unforgivable.
@UniversityBound: Scarlett Romano is a literal genius who overcame poverty and foster care to get a perfect SAT score. And we tried to destroy her. We're disgusting.
Someone had started a new hashtag. #WeSorryScarlettRomano
It was trending in the top five nationwide.
Scarlett set her phone down. Rubbed her eyes.
This was insane. This was absolutely insane.
Twenty-four hours ago, she was public enemy number one. A cheater. A fraud. Someone who didn't deserve her success.
Now she was... what? An inspiration? A hero?
The door opened. Damon walked in.
He glanced at her phone. At her face. "You've seen it."
"Hard to miss."
He poured himself coffee. Sat down across from her. "How do you feel?"
Scarlett let out a laugh. It came out hollow. "I don't know. Vindicated? Exhausted? Confused?"
"All reasonable responses."
"It's just..." She gestured at her phone. "Yesterday these same people wanted me dead. Today they're calling me inspirational. It's all so fake."
Damon didn't respond. Just waited.
"They don't actually care about me," Scarlett continued. "They care about the story. The narrative. Poor girl from Montana overcomes adversity and achieves academic perfection. It's a good story. It makes them feel good to support it."
She picked up her phone. Scrolled through more tweets.
"But none of it's real. They don't know me. They don't want to know me. They just want to feel like they're on the right side this time."
Damon set down his coffee cup. "You're right."
She looked up at him.
"About all of it," he said. "They're fickle. Shallow. They'll turn on you again the second it becomes convenient."
He leaned forward slightly.
"But that doesn't mean you can't use this."
Scarlett frowned. "Use it how?"
"Right now, you have leverage. Public support. Sympathy. The College Board's official backing." His eyes were serious. "That's currency. Don't waste it."
Before she could respond, her phone buzzed.
Then it buzzed again.
And again.
She looked at the screen. Her eyes went wide.
"What is it?" Damon asked.
"Emails." Her voice came out faint. "From colleges. Lots of colleges."
She opened the first one.
FROM: Office of Undergraduate Admissions, Harvard University
Dear Ms. Romano,
On behalf of Harvard University, I would like to personally extend an offer of admission for the upcoming academic year...
She scrolled down.
...full scholarship covering tuition, room, and board...
...additional stipend for living expenses...
...priority consideration for research opportunities...
The email went on. And on.
Scarlett opened the next one.
Yale. Full ride. Plus a fifteen thousand dollar annual stipend.
The next one.
Stanford. Full scholarship. Housing included. Research assistant position guaranteed.
She kept scrolling.
Princeton. MIT. Columbia. Penn. Brown.
Every single Ivy League school. Plus Stanford, Duke, Northwestern, and at least a dozen others.
All offering full scholarships. All begging her to attend.
"This is insane," she whispered.
Damon leaned over to look at her screen. His eyebrows rose slightly. "That's quite a collection."
Scarlett set her phone down. "I need air," she said.
Damon's phone buzzed. He glanced at it. His expression darkened slightly. "The Romano family party video just leaked."
"What ?" Scarlett walked over. Looked at the screen.
It was footage from Zelda's party. Shot on someone's phone. Shaky but clear enough.
The video showed the entire Romano family gathered around Zelda. Laughing. Celebrating her mediocre SAT score like she'd won the Nobel Prize.
Then the camera panned. Caught Scarlett standing off to the side. Alone. Ignored.
Viviana Romano walked right past her daughter without even glancing in her direction.
Lorenzo looked uncomfortable but said nothing.
Nico was too busy talking to Zelda to notice Scarlett existed.
The video ended.
Scarlett stared at the screen. Her jaw was tight.
"How many views?" Her voice came out flat.
Damon checked. "Three million. In the last two hours."
Her phone started buzzing again. Notifications flooding in.
She picked it up. Opened X.
@SocialMediaWatch: THIS VIDEO. The Romano family celebrating Zelda's average SAT score with gifts and parties while completely ignoring Scarlett's PERFECT score? This is sickening.
@FamilyDynamics: Notice how Viviana Romano can't even look at her own daughter? But treats the adopted daughter like royalty? What kind of mother does that?
@JusticeForAll: Scarlett Romano worked construction to survive. Got a perfect SAT score despite growing up in poverty. And her own family treated her like garbage. I'm furious.
A new hashtag was trending. #JusticeForScarlett
Someone had created a side-by-side comparison. Zelda's elaborate party versus the complete absence of any celebration for Scarlett.
The comments were brutal. Directed entirely at the Romano family.
Scarlett set her phone down. "This is getting out of control."
"Yes," he agreed. "It is."
That Afternoon - Madison Park's Penthouse
Madison's phone hit the marble countertop with a crack. The screen didn't shatter but the sound echoed through her penthouse.
"This is bullshit!" Her voice was sharp. Loud. "Complete and utter bullshit!"
Eden was sitting on the white leather couch. Her own phone in her hands. She looked up nervously. "The College Board statement is pretty official—"
"I don't care!" Madison spun around. Her face was flushed. "You don't just go from construction sites to perfect SAT scores. That's not how it works!"
"Maybe she really is smart?"
"Nobody is that smart." Madison started pacing. "Someone helped her. Someone with serious money. Someone who could pay off the right people."
Eden bit her lip. Didn't respond.
Madison grabbed her phone. Pulled up the College Board statement for the fifth time. Read it again. Her jaw clenched tighter with each line.
"They're lying." Her voice came out flat. Cold. "They have to be lying."
"Or..." Eden's voice was small. "Maybe we were wrong?"
Madison's head snapped up. "What did you just say?"
"I'm just saying." Eden shifted on the couch. "Maybe she actually earned it. Maybe she's actually a genius and we just didn't want to believe it because—"
"No." Madison cut her off. "No. I know girls like Scarlett Romano. Small town trash who think they can come here and compete with us."
She pulled up her group chat. Started typing furiously.
Madison: Emergency meeting. Video call. NOW.
Within two minutes, three faces appeared on her screen. Brittany, Sophie, and Ashley.
"Okay." Brittany spoke first. "Are we all seeing what I'm seeing? Because I'm calling bullshit."
"Thank God someone else has a brain." Madison set her phone against a vase. Propped it up so all three friends could see her.
"This whole thing reeks," Sophie added. Her voice was sharp. "There's no way this is legit."