"Baby, you’re the best," Noah said, his hand rubbing slowly over Krystal’s arm. His fingers traced lazy circles on her skin.

Krystal laughed and leaned into him. Her dark hair fell across her shoulders, her red lipstick was still perfect, and her eyes still gleamed with satisfaction. "You should have seen Bella’s face," she said, her voice bright with triumph. "She looked like someone had slapped her. Like she couldn’t believe what was happening."

Noah grinned. "I can imagine."

Krystal shook her head, her smile widening. "And Mira? Mira is so stupid. She actually believed me. All that crying, all that sob story about my mom, and she fell for it completely."

"She’s always been easy to manipulate."

Krystal’s eyes glittered. "I know. That’s why I keep her around."

She thought about the presentation, the way the executives had nodded at her, the way they had written notes, the way one of them had smiled. She thought about the opportunities that might come from this, the internships, the connections, the doors that would open. "I guess I’m about to get some benefits from this presentation," she said.

Noah nodded. "Yeah, I guess. No matter how much research she did, it was you who gave the presentation confidently. So really, it was you who rocked it."

Krystal’s smile widened. "Exactly. No matter how good a presentation is, nothing compares to confidence. And Bella? She’s smart, sure. But she doesn’t have what I have."

Noah asked, "What’s that?"

Krystal tossed her hair. "Me. She couldn’t have done what I did. She would have been nervous, stumbling over her words, looking at her notes. I owned that room."

Noah’s hand stilled on her arm. "But what if she complains to the professor? You know she’s from a rich family. She has connections."

Krystal waved her hand dismissively. "Don’t worry. Even if she tells the professor, there’s nothing anyone can do. The group was registered with my name. The presentation was given by me. Bella’s name isn’t anywhere on the paperwork."

Noah’s eyebrows rose. "So she gets nothing?"

Krystal’s voice turned cold. "She gets zero. She lost her chance. And honestly, she should have been smarter. She should have submitted the group name herself. She should have protected her work."

Noah nodded slowly. "You’re ruthless."

Krystal stepped back and smoothed her blazer. "I’m practical. Anyway, I’m going. I have a celebration dinner with my best friend."

Noah raised an eyebrow. "Not with me?"

Krystal kissed his cheek, leaving a red lipstick mark. "Not tonight. Don’t wait up."

She walked away, her heels clicking confidently against the floor.

⊹₊˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧˚₊⊹

Meanwhile, Bella and Karl walked to the professor’s office. The hallway was quiet, with fluorescent lights humming overhead and casting a pale glow on the scuffed linoleum floor. Students had long since gone home to their dorms, their apartments, their families. The building felt empty and abandoned, like a ship everyone had deserted.

Bella’s heart pounded, and her palms were sweaty. She had rehearsed what she would say, calmly, clearly, without tears. She would explain what happened. She would tell the professor about the research she had done, the slides she had created, and the group name that had been submitted without her knowledge. She would ask for a chance to present her own work.

Karl walked beside her with his jaw tight and his hands shoved deep into his pockets. He had been silent since they left the classroom, his dark eyes fixed on the floor and his thoughts unreadable.

They reached the professor’s office. The door was closed, and a small sign hung on the handle that read: In Meeting. Do Not Disturb.

Bella’s heart sank.

A few students were scattered in the hallway, sitting on the floor, leaning against the walls, and scrolling through their phones. One of them looked up.

The student said, "Professor’s been in there for hours. Some meeting with the department head. Probably won’t be out until late."

Bella’s stomach tightened. "How late?"

The student shrugged. "Dunno. Maybe another hour. Maybe more."

Bella looked at Karl. His expression was grim.

"We’ll wait," Karl said.

They sat down on the floor across from the professor’s door. The linoleum was cold, hard, and uncomfortable. Bella pulled her knees up to her chest and wrapped her arms around them. Karl leaned his head back against the wall and closed his eyes.

The minutes crawled by.

The students in the hallway gradually left, one by one, then in pairs, until only Bella and Karl remained. The building grew darker as the sun set outside the windows. Bella checked her phone, then again, then again.

Karl opened his eyes. "She’ll come out eventually. Unless she wants to stay inside her office overnight."

Bella nodded, but she didn’t feel reassured.

The door opened.

Bella scrambled to her feet, and Karl stood beside her. The professor stepped out with a stack of papers in her arms, her glasses perched on her nose, and her expression tired and distracted. She looked older in the dim light, with deeper lines on her face and darker shadows under her eyes.

Bella stepped forward. "Professor? Can I talk to you?"

The professor looked up, frowning. Her eyes swept over Bella, then Karl, then the empty hallway behind them. "Why aren’t you gone yet?" she asked, her voice sharp. "It’s late."

Bella started, "I need to talk to you about—"

"Why didn’t you submit your presentation?" The professor cut her off, her voice rising. "You had weeks to prepare. Weeks. And you didn’t submit a group name. You didn’t register. You didn’t do the basic minimum required for this class."

Bella opened her mouth to respond, but the professor held up her hand. "Don’t. I don’t want to hear excuses. I’ve had a long day. I’ve been in meetings for hours, dealing with budget issues and scheduling conflicts and a hundred other problems that have nothing to do with students who can’t follow simple instructions."

Bella’s throat tightened.

The professor continued, "I know what you’re going to say. You’re going to tell me about technical difficulties, or group conflicts, or some personal emergency. I’ve heard it all before. Every semester, the same stories."

Bella tried again. "That’s not—"

"I don’t have time for this." The professor shifted the papers in her arms. "You can give your presentation next week. Alone. I’ll fit you in somewhere. But don’t expect special treatment."

Bella’s eyes burned. "I don’t want special treatment. I just want a chance to—"

The professor’s voice was final. "And you’ll have it. Next week. Talk to my assistant to schedule a time."

She walked past them, her heels clicking against the floor.