Framed by My Students, Reborn Without Mercy

“My mom sold our house to buy an apartment near the school so she could accompany me during the exam. How am I supposed to explain this to her?”

“Witch! Ms. Williams is an evil witch!”

The curses intensified, once again putting me in the spotlight.

But this time, I remained calm.

Unlike my past life, I didn’t panic.

I looked at these little monsters and asked, “You have no evidence, yet you accuse me of misleading you into applying to Ridgeway University?”

“Who says we have no evidence?”

Vivian’s lips curled into a cold smile.

She turned on the projector and mirrored her phone screen.

The video showed me standing at the lectern, introducing Ridgeway University with vivid enthusiasm.

“Some students wanted to capture their final high school moments and secretly recorded this,” she explained.

“Without this video, we’d never be able to clear our names.”

With Vivian’s testimony, the class’s support and this video, it was as if a verdict had already been reached.

The parents were furious, demanding I be permanently barred from teaching.

Even the school boards, trying to mediate, felt embarrassed.

They had never imagined a teacher could be so cruel.

But I stood my ground. “This video was generated by AI, wasn’t it?”

“I may not be tech-savvy, but I understand enough.”

Pointing to the screen, I said, “At 3 minutes and 17 seconds, my face distorts. Didn’t anyone notice?”

Vivian’s expression shifted slightly.

She frowned and asked coldly, “Then what do you think we’re trying to achieve by doing this?”

“Exactly,” I echoed. “What are you trying to achieve?”

The school officials exchanged glances, wanting to hear the answer too.

“You’re trying to vent the resentment you’ve held toward me for the past three years,” I said plainly.

“I thought my methods were noble, but to you, they were harsh. This is your revenge.”

My words stunned everyone into silence.

Even if no one believed me, I said it anyway.

Vivian glared at me, her gaze icy, while the other students stared in shock.

There were 46 students in my class.

One-third came from poor families and I visited them regularly each month.

I brought food, helped financially and ensured their safety.

If anyone didn’t show up, I’d call immediately. I protected each one like my own.

Was that kind of education wrong?

Before I died in my previous life, I had wrestled with that question countless times.

“What?! Ms. Claire, aren’t you underestimating us?”

“Yes, Miss. We loved you and obeyed you, yet this is how you treat us?”

“I swear, I’ve never held any resentment toward Ms. Claire,” one of them claimed.

Then Vivian raised her hand and vowed, “If I’m lying, may my entire family meet a terrible end!”

I sneered inside.

If such oaths worked, how many people in this world would die every day?

It was just another performance.

And in the eyes of outsiders, as their homeroom teacher, I could not escape blame no matter how things unfolded.

Finally, someone from the school suggested a formal investigation.

But the parents wouldn’t back down.

If this hadn’t been a public setting, they would’ve likely assaulted me then and there.

To calm the situation, the school made a temporary promise, I would be suspended immediately.

And if the accusations proved true, my teaching license would be permanently revoked.

Vivian turned her back to the others and flashed a triumphant smile at me.

Silently, I took out my phone and played the recording from that day.