Wouldn't want anyone saying you're unstable. Chase laughed under his breath. Maya held Ryan's gaze. You seem very calm for someone whose private records were supposedly stolen. Ryan shrugged.
Nothing in mind matters. Why? He smiled. Because I know what matters in everybody else's. Maya went still.
Ryan continued, enjoying himself now. You think Maria Santos wants people talking about that disciplinary complaint she made after the housing incident? Maya's pulse jumped. Ryan kept talking. Especially the part about her emergency loan request after she left.
Maya's mind sharpened. She had seen Maria's archived file. She had seen the public leak list. That detail was not in it. Not the emergency loan request.
Not that specific reference. Ryan watched her face. Then his smile faded slightly. He realized too late that she had stopped reacting emotionally. She was listening.
Maya asked one quiet question. How do you know about that? Ryan's expression changed. Chase looked at him. For half a second, no one moved.
Then Ryan laughed. Everybody knows. No. Maya's voice remained calm. That wasn't in the leak.
The air between them tightened. Ryan's eyes flicked toward Chase. A mistake. Small. Almost invisible.
But Maya saw it. And for the first time since morning, despair gave way to something else. A thread. One thin thread. Ryan stepped back.
You're confused. Maya looked at him. No. She opened her notebook. Ryan's face hardened.
Maya wrote down the time. The location. His exact words. Then she looked up. I think you just told me something you weren't supposed to know.
Ryan's face changed only slightly. But Maya saw it. The confidence disappeared from his eyes before the smile returned. You're reaching. Maya closed her notebook.
Maybe. Ryan gave a short laugh. You've been suspended. Your father's on leave. And your little investigation just got half the campus exposed.
You really think anybody's going to care what you wrote down? Maya looked at him. Yes. For a moment, neither moved. Then Ryan stepped back.
Good luck with that. He turned toward Whitmore Hall with Chase beside him. Maya watched until they disappeared through the doors. Only then did she realize her hands were shaking. Not from fear.
From exhaustion. She had spent days forcing herself to remain measured while other people lied louder. Now Marcus had lost his job. Evelyn had lost the archive. Her father had been pushed out of his own office.
Hundreds of adult students had private information exposed. And somewhere beneath all of it was the possibility that Maya had helped trigger the attack simply by refusing to disappear quietly. By three that afternoon, she was sitting beneath the Route 417 bus shelter across from Ruth's kitchen. Rain had returned. It tapped against the plastic roof in uneven bursts while headlights stretched across the wet pavement.
Maya sat alone on the metal bench. Her faded backpack rested at her feet. The brass key hung from the blue cord, striking softly against one zipper whenever the wind moved the bag. She had nowhere she was required to be. No class.
No campus meeting. No archive. No father's office to walk into. Suspension had turned time into something heavy. A Route 417 bus stopped in front of her.
The doors folded open. Maya stayed seated. The driver waited. She shook her head. The doors closed.
The bus pulled away. Across the street, warm yellow light filled Ruth's kitchen. Maya could see Walter Green through the window. His left wrist was wrapped in a temporary brace. That had happened two days earlier before everything collapsed.
Walter had slipped on a wet patch of sidewalk near the restaurant while carrying a grocery bag. Maya had been coming off a shift. She heard the bag hit pavement first, then saw him sitting against the brick wall, stunned and embarrassed. I'm fine, Walter had insisted. You're holding your wrist like it owes you money.
It's nothing. It's swelling. Maya had crouched beside him and gathered the groceries before rain could soak them. Walter tried to stand. She put a hand on his shoulder.
Don't. Maya, please. She had taken off her scarf and loosely supported his wrist until help arrived. Elena Torres, 39, the responding paramedic, examined him beneath the restaurant awning. Probably a bad sprain, Elena said.
Maybe a small fracture. We'll get imaging. Walter grimaced. I can't afford an ambulance. Elena looked at him.
We'll talk through options. First, we make sure you're okay. Maya stayed until Walter agreed to go. She carried his grocery bag into the ambulance and gave him her number again, even though he already had it. At the time, her own phone had been filling with messages about the university investigation.
She had ignored them for 15 minutes. Walter needed somebody. That had seemed more important. Now, sitting across from Ruth's kitchen, Maya wondered whether that instinct had cost everyone around her. The thought arrived quietly.
Maybe if I had transferred. Maybe if I had signed Hayes' agreement. Maybe if I had stopped after the courtyard footage. Maybe Marcus would still have his job. Maybe Evelyn would still have her access.
Maybe Daniel would still be president in more than title. The shelter light flickered overhead. Maya pressed the heels of her hands against her eyes. For the first time since the courtyard, she let herself cry. Not dramatically.
No sobbing. Just tears. She was too tired to stop. A bus passed without slowing. Water sprayed along the curb.
A voice beside her said, You missed too. Maya lowered her hands. Daniel stood at the edge of the shelter. No presidential coat. No leather folder.
Just a dark sweater beneath a rain jacket. His hair damp at the temples. She looked away. You're following me now? I know your habits.
That sounds nicer. He sat beside her. For a while, neither spoke. Traffic moved along Route 417. Finally, Daniel said, Laura told me you talked to Ryan.
Maya turned. You're on leave. How does Laura still know everything? She's very good at her job. Maya almost smiled.
Almost. Then the wait returned. I think I ruined Marcus's life. No. He lost his job.
Temporarily, I hope, Evelyn lost the archive. Yes. You lost your office. Daniel looked toward the rain. That office was never mine.
Maya frowned. You know what I mean. I do. She picked up the brass key from her backpack. Was this yours?
Daniel looked at it for a long moment. Evelyn showed you. She showed me the photograph. He nodded. You were 21.