Three bars of satellite connection.
I immediately tapped Arthur’s number.
"Evelyn," Arthur's voice came through, tight with suppressed anxiety. "Your signal dropped for thirty minutes. I was about to send the tactical teams."
"Do it," I rasped, climbing to my feet and leaning against the mop sink. "Send everyone. The FBI financial crimes division, the state marshals, and the actual Board of Regents. I want them here right now. Marcus is starting the demolition."
"The transfer logs are fully decrypted," Arthur confirmed, the sound of rapid typing echoing over the line. "We have undeniable proof of a fifty-million-dollar embezzlement, wire fraud, and extortion. The authorities are three minutes away."
"I’m going out there," I said.
I pushed open the closet door and walked down the empty hallway toward the main courtyard doors. Outside, the early morning sun was just beginning to break over the horizon, casting a pale, cold light over the campus.
I pushed through the double doors and stepped out into the crisp morning air.
The sight made my blood boil.
Three massive yellow excavators were parked on the manicured lawn, their heavy metal claws raised like weapons toward the beautiful brick facade of the scholarship wing. A chain-link perimeter had been hastily erected.
Gathered in the courtyard, looking confused and frightened, were hundreds of students and faculty. Headmaster Vance had clearly called an emergency morning assembly to create witnesses for the "condemnation."
Standing on the raised stone steps of the administrative building, holding a microphone, was Marcus Sterling. He looked immaculate in a tailored overcoat, wearing a mask of false tragedy. Behind him stood Richard, Trent, and Chase, looking incredibly smug.
"It breaks my heart," Marcus was saying into the microphone, his voice echoing over the silent crowd. "But the structural integrity of the historic wing has failed. For the safety of the students, we must bring it down immediately. Progress is painful, but necessary."
Richard caught sight of Leo standing in the crowd, watching his classroom—and his physics project—about to be destroyed. Richard nudged Trent and laughed.
"Wait!"
My voice wasn't amplified by a microphone, but it carried the absolute, undeniable authority of a woman who was done hiding.
The entire courtyard turned.
I walked slowly through the crowd. The students parted for me. I was a shocking sight—an elderly cafeteria worker covered in thick gray dust, my clothes torn, my knuckles bruised.
Marcus stopped speaking. He lowered the microphone, his eyes narrowing in furious disbelief. He looked back at Richard, who suddenly looked terrified, realizing I had escaped the basement.
"Evelyn," Headmaster Vance stammered, stepping forward, sweating profusely. "What on earth are you doing? Security, remove this woman!"
Two burly campus security guards stepped toward me.
I didn't even look at them. I kept my eyes locked on Marcus. I raised my encrypted phone and held it out.
"Before you tear down my building, Marcus," I said, my voice ringing clear across the silent courtyard, "I suggest you check your bank accounts."
Marcus scoffed, gripping the microphone. "You're insane. Guards, get her out of here."
"Fifty million dollars," I said, stopping at the base of the stone steps. "Transferred from the Prescott Endowment into Sterling Holdings, disguised as operating losses. Used to collateralize your failing luxury developments. Authorized by Headmaster Vance's master terminal."
A collective gasp rippled through the faculty. Vance turned the color of chalk.
Marcus's confident mask finally cracked. "How do you know that?" he hissed, forgetting the microphone was still on.