Chapter 2 - The Flight of Professor Vance
The heavy oak doors of the auditorium swung shut with a deafening thud, but the echo of the running professor’s footsteps still vibrated through the floorboards.
Dr. Arthur Vance, the distinguished head of the cybersecurity department, was sprinting down the marble corridor of the science building. For three years, he had smiled at me, critiqued my data, and praised my brilliance. Now, he was fleeing like a common thief.
In the auditorium, chaos erupted.
Daniel stood frozen at the podium. His arrogant, polished smile had completely melted away, replaced by the pale, clammy look of a man who suddenly realized he was standing on a trapdoor. He looked at the projector screen, which my father had just hijacked with his encrypted flash drive.
Displayed in massive, high-definition resolution for the entire academic committee to see, was the baby monitor footage.
The room watched in horrified silence as the video played. They saw Daniel’s knee digging into my spine. They saw Lorraine, his mother, holding a pair of heavy kitchen shears, her face twisted in vicious delight as she hacked away at my dark hair. The audio hissed through the auditorium speakers: “Women don’t belong in college. Especially married women who embarrass their husbands.”
"Turn it off!" Daniel shrieked, his voice cracking. He lunged toward the laptop, but two campus police officers, already summoned by my father prior to the meeting, stepped into his path.
"Daniel Preston," one of the officers said, his hand resting casually on his utility belt. "Step away from the equipment. You are being detained for domestic assault, unauthorized access to a protected computer network, and corporate espionage."
"No! She's hysterical! She set me up!" Daniel screamed, pointing a shaking finger at me. "She cut her own hair! Look at her!"
I stood from my chair at the center of the room. I was wearing a pristine white suit, the sharp lines of the blazer contrasting with the jagged, uneven chop of my remaining hair. I didn't look down. I didn't cry. I reached into my leather briefcase and pulled out the clear, plastic evidence bag containing the dark locks of my own hair. I placed it gently on the committee table.
"I didn't set you up, Daniel," I said, my voice eerily calm, carrying through the dead silent room. "I just stopped letting you blind me."
My father, Marcus, a veteran investigator who had spent nearly three decades dismantling financial syndicates for the DOJ, didn't even look at my husband. He turned to the committee chair, Dr. Aris Thorne, who was staring at the second document displayed on the screen.
It was the hidden contract found on Daniel’s hard drive.
"Dr. Thorne," my father said, his voice a low, commanding rumble. "My daughter’s research is an advanced cryptographic compression algorithm. It was designed to secure medical databases. But this contract shows that Daniel sold the source code to an offshore entity called Apex Educational Solutions. And the counter-signature on this contract belongs to the man who just ran out that door: Dr. Arthur Vance."
Dr. Thorne took off his glasses, his hands trembling. "Vance? Why would Vance buy stolen code?"
"Because," my father explained, "Apex isn't an educational company. It's a black-market syndicate. They hack university servers, alter failing grades for wealthy, connected students, and steal intellectual property from brilliant, unconnected students to sell to Silicon Valley. They needed Sarah’s algorithm to encrypt their digital tracks so the federal government couldn't trace the grade tampering. Daniel didn't just steal a patent. He provided the key to a national cyber-crime ring."
Daniel fell to his knees. The silver cuffs clicked around his wrists.
Suddenly, my father’s phone buzzed. He answered it, listened for three seconds, and hung up. He looked at me, a fierce, protective pride in his eyes.
"Campus security just intercepted Dr. Vance in the parking garage," my father announced. "He was trying to destroy his hard drive with a tire iron. The FBI is on their way."
May you like
I looked down at Daniel, who was weeping pathetic, ugly tears on the carpet. Twelve hours ago, he made me feel like the smallest, most powerless creature on earth. Now, he was nothing but a criminal in handcuffs. But as the police dragged him out, I knew this wasn't over. Daniel was just a pawn. The real architect of my suffering was still waiting for him at home.
And Lorraine was about to realize I was coming for her next.
