Chapter 12 - The Setup
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Nora defensively reached for her whiteboard and marker.
Was going to tell you, she scribbled quickly.
“When?” I asked, crossing my arms. “After you won a Pulitzer Prize?”
She almost smiled, but the wires in her jaw pulled tight, causing her to wince.
She erased the board and wrote: Didn't want you involved. Too dangerous.
A small, hysterical sound escaped Maya, who had followed me back into the room. “Yeah, because investigating four billionaires by yourself is super safe, Nora.”
I pulled my plastic chair closer to the bed, resting my forearms on the mattress rail. I needed actionable intelligence, and I needed it directly from the source.
“Nora, listen to me,” I said, keeping my tone perfectly level. “Who asked you to meet at the north parking structure last night?”
Nora's stubborn expression finally cracked. Her hand trembled slightly as she hovered the marker above the board. She looked at me, her eyes filled with residual terror from the night before.
Slowly, she wrote one single word.
Preston.
I felt a dark satisfaction. My instincts were still sharp. Preston Caldwell, the terrified whistle-blower who had ended up in a different hospital.
“What did he want from you?” I asked gently.
Her marker squeaked against the plastic board. He had documents. Physical proof.
“Proof of what? The stolen scholarship money?”
She nodded, then wrote: Something bigger. Real estate fraud.
I waited, letting her dictate the pace.
Said their fathers were hiding it all through the university endowment.
“Whose fathers?”
She wrote: All of them.
Then, underneath it, she quickly added a crucial detail.
But the boys didn't all agree.
A deep chill moved through my chest. Everything I had assumed during the long, agonizing night was beginning to unravel. The narrative wasn't a unified gang of rich kids beating up a girl. It was a fractured alliance. It was a civil war among thieves.
“Were Chad, Brantley, and Wyatt there in the garage too?” I asked.
Nora nodded.
I took a deep breath. “Did they attack you?”
She closed her eyes. A tear slipped free, rolling over her bruised cheek. For several long seconds, she didn't write anything.
May you like
When she finally uncapped the marker, her answer completely shifted the ground beneath my feet.
I don't know.
