Chapter 3 - The Boardroom Confrontation
The executive conference room of the St. Clair Academic Fellowship looked down over the city skyline. Eight board members sat around a polished mahogany table, their expressions formal, guarded, and cold. At the head of the table sat Dr. Aris Thorne, the dean of admissions.
Vivien sat between me and Grandma June. She wore a simple dark blue blazer, her hands folded neatly in her lap, sitting up straight despite the weight of the room.
"Mrs. June, Lydia, thank you for coming," Dr. Thorne began, holding a thick folder. "As you know, the St. Clair Fellowship maintains the highest ethical standards. The video sent to our board anonymous tips line raised severe concerns regarding academic integrity, fraud, and coercion. Until we could verify the authenticity—"
"You don't need to verify anything, Dr. Thorne," Mr. Vance interrupted smoothly, sliding three heavy leather-bound binders across the mahogany table. "Because my team of forensic experts has already done it for you."
Dr. Thorne blinked, opening the top binder.
"Inside that dossier," Mr. Vance explained, "you will find an affidavit from Dr. Harrison, a certified federal court expert witness in digital forensics. Pages 4 through 12 detail the frame-by-frame structural mismatch of the deepfake video. Pages 14 through 20 trace the IP address and credit card metadata directly to the perpetrators: Monica and Jonathan Miller."
The board members immediately began flipping through the pages, their quiet indifference instantly shattering into murmurs of shock.
"Furthermore," Mr. Vance continued, leaning forward, "we have filed formal criminal complaints with the State Cyber Crime Task Force. The video you received was not a whistleblowing confession. It was an illegal, malicious cyber-attack executed against a minor to destroy her standing."
Dr. Thorne looked up from the documents, his face turning pale. He turned his gaze toward Vivien.
"Vivien," Dr. Thorne said softly. "I apologize for the distress this temporary hold has caused you."
Vivien didn't flinch. She looked Dr. Thorne directly in the eye, her voice clear and unbroken.
"I worked eighteen months for this fellowship, Dr. Thorne," Vivien said. "I spent my weekends studying advanced calculus and organic chemistry while other kids were hanging out at the mall. I didn't cheat. My mother didn't buy my answers. And I won't let my family’s jealousy ruin what I earned."
Grandma June smiled softly beside her, resting her gloved hand on Vivien’s shoulder.
Dr. Thorne closed the binder, looked around the table at his fellow board members, who all nodded in silent unison.
"Vivien," Dr. Thorne said, his voice brimming with newfound respect. "Your acceptance into the St. Clair Fellowship is fully reinstated, effective immediately. In fact, given these extraordinary circumstances, the board would like to offer you the Director’s Honors Scholarship, which covers full tuition, international research travel, and living stipends."
Tears welled in my eyes, but I forced them back, squeezing Vivien’s hand under the table.
"Thank you, Dr. Thorne," I said. "Now, if you’ll excuse us, we have a law enforcement appointment to keep."
As we walked out of the glass doors of the fellowship building, my phone vibrated in my pocket. It was a text message from my mother.
May you like
Lydia, what are you doing?! Monica just got a visit from two police detectives at her office! You are destroying this family! Call me NOW!
I looked at the screen, smiled coldly, and swiped the notification away into the trash.
