She stood.

“Jordan.”

He turned.

Something in her expression made him pause.

Finally, he placed the document on the table.

It was a letter from Westbridge’s technology vendor.

The company was conducting a routine system migration and had discovered an old user account registered to Jordan.

“They contacted you?”

“Yeah.”

“Why?”

“Because my student tech account never got deleted.”

Maya read further.

The account had been inactive for nearly two years but remained archived.

She looked up.

“So?”

Jordan took the paper.

“So nothing.”

“Then why are you acting weird?”

“Because I don’t want anything to do with that place.”

He turned away.

Maya caught his wrist.

“What did you find?”

Jordan stared at her.

For several seconds, neither spoke.

Then he sat down.

“When I worked student tech, we helped Mr. Pierce maintain the computer lab.”

Nolan Pierce was Westbridge’s technology director.

Jordan continued.

“A few weeks before they accused me, I noticed grade changes.”

“What kind?”

“Administrative overrides.”

“Teachers change grades.”

“Not like these.”

Jordan rubbed his hands together.

“Some students had dozens of changes. Test scores. Semester averages. Attendance. Even disciplinary records.”

Maya sat opposite him.

“Who?”

“I didn’t know most of them.”

“Most?”

Jordan looked toward the window.

“One I knew.”

Maya already understood.

“Evan Whitmore.”

Brooke’s older brother.

Evan had graduated the same year Jordan was supposed to.

He had been quarterback of the football team and later accepted into Northwestern.

The Whitmore family had hosted a graduation party that appeared in the community newspaper.

Jordan nodded.

“I saw his chemistry grade change from a seventy-two to a ninety-one.”

Maya stared at him.

“Who changed it?”

“The override came from an administrative account.”

“Whose?”

“I didn’t know.”

“What happened when you asked?”

Jordan gave her a bitter smile.

“Mr. Pierce told me to mind my business.”

“And then?”

“I didn’t.”

Jordan had copied several access logs onto his school account.

Not to expose anyone.

Not at first.

He simply wanted to understand what he was seeing.

Three days later, Principal Elaine Mercer called him into her office.

Mr. Pierce was there.

So was Catherine Whitmore.

At the time, Catherine had been president of the Westbridge Education Foundation.

Jordan had no idea why she was attending a meeting about student computer access.

“They asked if I had been looking at confidential records.”

“What did you say?”

“I told them the system was showing unauthorized grade changes.”

Maya leaned closer.

“And?”

Jordan laughed without humor.

“They said there weren’t unauthorized changes.”

“So what happened to the logs?”

“Gone the next morning.”

“Deleted?”

“From my account.”

“And then they found the flash drive.”

Jordan nodded.

“Three days later.”

Maya sat back.

The room felt cold.

“You think they planted it.”

“I know they did.”

“Why didn’t you tell Mom?”

“I did.”

“She never told me this.”

“I asked her not to.”

“Why?”

“Because she was already working double shifts trying to find a lawyer.”

Jordan looked at his sister.

“And because you were fifteen.”

Maya’s anger grew.

“So everyone just let them do it?”

“What was I supposed to do?”

“Fight.”

“With what?”

“The truth.”

Jordan slapped his palm against the table.

“The truth doesn’t matter if the people controlling the evidence are the people lying about you.”

Maya went silent.

Jordan immediately regretted yelling.

He lowered his voice.

“I had no logs. No access records. No witnesses. They had a flash drive in my locker and six administrators saying I was the only student with enough system access to steal those exams.”

“You had your word.”

“Against Westbridge.”

He stood.

“That was the problem.”

Maya barely slept.

Three weeks later, an opening appeared in Westbridge’s Advanced Scholars Program.

Her current school counselor recommended her.

Renee did not want her to apply.

Jordan wanted it even less.

“No.”

They were eating dinner when Maya brought it up.

“Why?”

“You know why.”

“It has the best AP program in the district.”

“I don’t care.”

“I do.”

Renee put down her fork.

“Maya, there are other schools.”

“None with that program.”

Jordan stared at her.

“You want to go because of me.”

“No.”

“Maya.”

She met his eyes.

“I’m not going there to investigate anything.”

That was technically true.

She had no plan.

Not yet.

Jordan leaned back.

“Promise me.”

Maya hesitated.

“Promise.”

She looked at her brother.

“I promise I’m going for school.”

He noticed the wording.

But he let it go.

Maya transferred to Westbridge in October.

The difference between Westbridge and her old school was immediately obvious.

The hallways were cleaner.

The computers were newer.

Every classroom had interactive screens.

The athletic complex looked like something belonging to a small university.

And everywhere Maya looked, she saw the same name.

WHITMORE ATHLETIC CENTER.

WHITMORE STEM SCHOLARSHIP.

WHITMORE COMMUNITY LEADERSHIP FUND.

A photograph in the administration hallway showed Daniel and Catherine Whitmore smiling beside Principal Mercer while holding an oversized ceremonial check for $2.5 million.

Maya stared at it on her first morning.

“You planning to steal it?”

She turned.

A blonde girl stood behind her.

Brooke.

Maya had seen photographs online while reading about Jordan’s case.

Up close, Brooke looked even more polished.

Perfect hair.

Perfect clothes.

Perfect smile.

“I’m looking at it.”

Brooke glanced at Maya’s transfer badge.

“New?”

“Obviously.”

Brooke smiled.

“I’m Brooke.”

“Maya.”

“Maya what?”

“Brooks.”

The smile remained.

But the warmth disappeared.

Brooke recognized the name.

Maya saw it happen.

“Jordan Brooks your brother?”

“Yes.”

Brooke looked toward the administration office.