A lingering, sharp scent in the corridor caught the attention of a passing housekeeper. She paused, leaning her broom against the wainscoting to confer with a colleague. “Did you notice that yesterday? It’s far too heavy for perfume... it feels clinical, almost invasive.” The two exchanged a wary glance before moving on, the air in the Southall residence feeling increasingly oppressive.

In her room, Wendy stared at the glowing screen of her phone. For the third time that hour, she attempted to place a call, only to be met with the flat, automated reminder of a suspended account. The social and financial support she had once taken for granted was evaporating. Her only hope now lay with Cecilia—if only she would break her silence and restore the safety net that was rapidly shredding.

Across town, Donovan was trapped in a cycle of restless frustration. He regretted the impulsiveness that had led him to Selena; his attempt to steer the narrative had backfired, resulting in a swift, decisive penalty against Wendy. As much as he tried to distance himself from her, the loss felt like a physical blow to his career. Wendy had been his most consistent academic asset, a guaranteed slot for Maxwell University. Without her, his path to professional tenure looked increasingly precarious.

The weight of his mood was suddenly lifted by a call from Noah.

“Excellent news, Donovan. San has officially arrived at the campus. Selena mentioned she’ll be making inquiries on our behalf. If San is open to a consultation, we may have her contact details by the end of the day.”

Donovan’s eyes brightened, a spark of genuine hope returning. “Are you certain? She’s notoriously selective with her time.”

“I’ve heard she values intellectual curiosity above all else,” Noah encouraged. “I fully expect she’ll agree to a meeting. You’d best prepare yourself. Choose a venue that reflects the gravity of the occasion.”

“Understood. I’ll see to it immediately!”

The news was a lifeline. Donovan began researching the most prestigious dining spots in Lightspring. After a moment of indecision, he bypassed the faculty clubs and settled on the revolving restaurant atop the city’s highest landmark—a venue that commanded respect and a significant minimum expenditure. For a guest like San, only the pinnacle of the city would suffice.

Returning to his desk, Donovan forced himself to focus on his dissertation. He needed this paper to be flawless to secure his standing. He began illustrating his complex theories with elegant solutions to advanced mathematical problems.

However, a cold knot of self-consciousness tightened in his chest as he typed. The two primary examples cited in his thesis—the very pillars of his argument—were not his own. One was a solution Arielle had drafted during the opening exams; the other was a brilliant conceptualization she had shared in the auditorium.

He tried to suppress the rising tide of shame. It’s for the greater good of the department, he told himself, though the lie felt hollow. To maintain the illusion of a functioning class, he sent a message to the student group, convening a session at his quarters in thirty minutes.

He needed to sharpen their presentation skills for the upcoming interviews, but the absence of his top performers was glaring. Though Trisha had been removed, he kept Wendy in the loop—not because she had a chance at the exams, but as a strategic move to prevent her from creating a public scene.

When the group finally gathered, Donovan scanned the room, his frown deepening. Terry, who had inherited the burden of being the most promising candidate in Wendy’s absence, was nowhere to be found.

“Where is Terry?” Donovan asked, the silence of the room only amplifying his growing unease.