Two Childhood Sweethearts Helped Her Frame Me for Plagiarism

I made my way back to the professor’s office, hoping to find some comfort and advice. Professor Walters, with his kind eyes and calm demeanor, was one of the few people who truly believed in my innocence. He was one of the few who stood by me when everyone else seemed eager to call me a cheat. In my previous life, when I faced accusations of plagiarism, he’d fought for me, pushing back against both the university and the public’s relentless judgment. But in the end, his support had only gotten him criticized too. He was mocked online for “coddling” students and trolls even labeled him an “academic enabler.” Still, he never stopped advocating for me.

Taking a deep breath, I sat across from him and explained my predicament, detailing how Sisca had once again stolen my code and passed it off as her own. I could see the concern deepen in his expression as he listened.

After a long pause, he leaned forward, adjusting his glasses. “I believe I might have a solution,” he said, his tone calm but firm. “I’ve spoken to my wife about you. She teaches at a nearby university and has access to an independent lab where you could continue your project. The competition rules should allow you to finish remotely. No distractions, no eyes on your work.”

I was overwhelmed by his kindness. Standing, I gave him a deep bow. “Thank you, Professor Walters. I’ll make sure your faith in me isn’t misplaced.”

The move to a new environment was a relief. In the small, quiet lab at the other university, I found myself able to concentrate for the first time in weeks. Every line of code I wrote felt like a step toward freedom, a chance to prove that I didn’t need anyone’s approval or validation to succeed. The deadline for the competition loomed closer and each night, I stayed later, fueled by determination. And every night, I would check Sisca’s profile, bracing myself for any updates.

Days passed and to my surprise, Sisca’s profile remained silent. No new posts, no updates, no cryptic comments about her “project.” It was as if she’d vanished. Relief washed over me and with a newfound sense of focus, I poured myself into the final lines of code. On the eve of the competition deadline, I hit the last keystroke, watching as my program compiled without error. I’d done it.

But a nagging instinct made me open Sisca’s page one last time. To my horror, she’d just posted: “Competition code complete!” Attached was a picture of her screen—an exact match to the last line of code I’d finished.

A tidal wave of anger and helplessness surged through me and before I knew it, my computer lay in broken pieces across the floor. My frustration boiled over and I barely noticed Professor Walters’ wife, Mrs. Walters, as she entered the lab, her face twisted in concern.

“What happened?” she asked, rushing over as I stood there, numb, amidst the shattered remnants of my computer.

I couldn’t hold back the tears any longer. “I’m sorry, Mrs. Walters. I can’t go on. No matter what I do, it just gets taken away from me. I think… I think I have to drop out.”

She pulled me into a gentle embrace, her voice soft and reassuring. “Oh, dear, don’t let this one setback define you. A single competition doesn’t determine your worth. There are more battles ahead and I know you’ll rise above this.”

I clung to her, grateful for her kindness but feeling empty. “Thank you… and thank Professor Walters too. You both tried so hard to help me.” But inside, I felt defeated. The competition wasn’t the only thing I was walking away from—I couldn’t bear to return to a school where everyone saw me as a fraud.

After I left Mrs. Walters, I spent the next few days alone, trying to process everything that had happened. I wanted to disappear, to escape from everything and everyone. Just as I was beginning to question my place in the world, I received an unexpected visitor.

A representative from the Jo Group arrived at my door with surprising news: they had been searching for me because I was the daughter of Vincent Jo, one of the wealthiest men in the city. He wanted me to join the family, to inherit the business empire he’d built and eventually study business administration abroad.

I laughed bitterly at the irony. After everything, this was my reality? To abandon the dreams I had worked so hard for, just to become some rich man’s heir? But as I lay in my enormous, unfamiliar bed in my father’s mansion, a new determination sparked within me. Those people who’d stolen from me and broken me down in my previous life wouldn’t get away with it in this one.

On the day of the Cyber Security Competition, I found myself glued to the live stream, watching from my bedroom. As expected, the event was held on the campus of a major tech corporation and the scene buzzed with excitement. There, on the stage, Sisca stood radiant and confident, basking in the crowd’s admiration. The comments scrolling across the live stream were full of praise:

“Sisca’s unstoppable! She’s got to be this year’s champion!”

“I knew she was talented, but this? She’s incredible!”

But as the camera panned across the audience, I noticed something strange. Many of the tech executives and judges in the front row had started shifting uncomfortably in their seats. Their expressions grew tense as Sisca continued to present her code, oblivious to the waves of unease spreading through the room. I watched intently, a hint of hope sparking within me as I waited to see what would unfold.

And then, I spotted him—the same man I’d seen with Sisca before, sitting in the front row, watching her with interest. The camera cut away before I could get a closer look, but I was certain now: he was someone powerful, someone important.

Finally, the murmurs became impossible to ignore. People were standing, some even leaving the auditorium, their faces a mix of confusion and disapproval. Sisca faltered, glancing nervously at the growing commotion but pressing on, talking about her “innovative code” with forced enthusiasm. She hadn’t realized yet, but the people she had hoped to impress were slipping away one by one.

The chat feed on the live stream was now flooded with comments, the tone shifting:

“Something’s off. Why are the judges looking so upset?”

“Sisca’s code is a masterpiece! Maybe they’re just intimidated.”

But some voices hinted at doubt: “Are we sure this is her work? There’s something weird going on…”

My heart pounded as I watched the tide turn. The judges, the executives, everyone in that room was beginning to see through her facade. And soon, the truth would be unavoidable. I didn’t need to be on that stage, after all. I didn’t need to prove myself to anyone. Sisca had dug her own grave and all I had to do was watch as she fell into it.

The large screen at the front of the stage suddenly went black, startling Sisca. She froze, her eyes widening in surprise as the screen stayed dark.

Just then, the audience members who hadn’t yet left crouched down, hiding behind their seats as if on some unspoken cue. The silence was broken by the sound of windows shattering and several SWAT officers rolled in, their guns pointed directly at Sisca.

“Hands up!”