The Billionaire Heiress in the Cheap Dorm

3: 3

The police arrived fast, and Mr. Chavez, the faculty advisor, showed up right after, sweating through his shirt.

In the back of the patrol car, Lucretia sobbed until she could barely breathe, unsteady on her feet.

At the police station, in front of the officer, I pulled up the purchase records, the invoice, and the customs clearance slip.

Eighty-eight thousand dollars, in black and white, stamped with an official seal.

The officer checked everything, confirmed it, and turned to Lucretia with a hard look.

"Miss, theft and destruction of another person's property, at this value, is a serious matter. If the victim doesn't drop the charges, you're looking at three years, minimum."

The instant she heard three years, Lucretia slid straight off the chair, lunged, and clamped both arms around Mr. Chavez's leg, wailing.

"Mr. Chavez, save me! I really didn't know the dress cost that much! If I get a record, my whole life is ruined! My parents will kill me! Please, please put in a word for me!"

Mr. Chavez wiped the sweat off his face and pulled me aside, anxious.

"Marion, this is entirely her fault, and I fully support you protecting your rights."

"But her family really is struggling. She's on loans just to be in college. She can't possibly pay eighty-eight thousand. Could you, as a favor to me, let her write an IOU? The school will act as guarantor, and she pays you back in installments. Don't push this all the way to a formal case. Leave her a way out, all right?"

I looked at how frantic Mr. Chavez was, then glanced at Lucretia, still slumped on the floor.

"Fine. Mr. Chavez, I respect you as my elder, so I'll do this for you."

I dragged a chair over and sat down, staring at her.

"Write the IOU, thumbprint it. Three thousand a month. Miss a payment, and I'll take this IOU to court for enforcement and freeze every account you have. One cent short, and I sue."

Under the advisor's watch, Lucretia wrote out the IOU for eighty-eight thousand, her hand shaking.

When she pressed her thumbprint down, her head was bowed, and the look in her eyes was pure venom.

I'd assumed the debt would keep her quiet. I underestimated how vindictive she was.

To weasel out of paying, she started scheming a different angle.

Half a month later, the school began deciding the year's financial aid and sponsorship grants.

The biggest of them was the Harding Sunshine Foundation special award. One recipient, fifty thousand dollars.

As student welfare officer, Cicely Lawrence was fully in charge of the initial review of the hardship applicants' files.

Three days before the review panel, a post suddenly blew up on the campus forum.

The title read: 《Exposing a Rich Heiress's True Colors: Chauffeured Luxury Cars, a Scandalous Private Life, and Forcing Her Poor Roommate Into Crushing Debt!》

The post named no names, but it was packed with blurry shots of my back getting into the Maybach, plus photos of the climate-controlled closet in my dorm.

Whoever posted it played it up in tears, casting themselves as some poor oppressed victim.

"One dress of hers costs eighty-eight thousand. I borrowed it once, got it a little dirty, and she forced me to write an IOU and threatened me with the police and prison. But where her own money comes from, whether it's clean, who knows?"

"I hear she gets into some older man's luxury car every weekend. Is this what they call high society? Using dirty money earned by selling herself to trample the dignity of ordinary people like us!"

The comments hit several hundred replies instantly, the whole thing exploded.

"Damn, are girls in college running games this wild now?"

"Why should someone like that get to compete with us regular students for an honor? It's disgusting!"

"Say no to bullying! Kick this trash out of school! Her background needs a full investigation!"

The rumor spread through the school. Walking through the dining hall, I could always feel people pointing.

In the dorm, Cicely held her cup of water and sneered at me. "My, my. Some people look all polished on the surface, but who knows how filthy they are behind it. Well, now it's all out in the open. Let's see how you can stand to stay in this dorm anymore."

Lucretia hid behind her bed curtain, snickering to herself, smug.

Sitting at the desk, reading the forum post, I calmly dialed the family's tech department.

"Trace the backend IP address of the person who made this post."

"And while you're at it, take everything in my inbox on Cicely Lawrence and Lucretia falsifying hardship-student files and illegally collecting kickbacks, all the transfer records, put it into a PowerPoint deck and send it to my email."

I hung up and turned my head to look at the two of them.

"Clowns. Since you two insist on blowing this up and love a trial by public opinion, I'll build you the stage myself."