The campus building was unusually quiet that morning. The previous day's rain had left puddles along the walkways, and most students hurried between buildings, huddled under coats and umbrellas. But inside the communications department's student forum office, the air was thick with tension.
Antonella sat at a desk in the back, going over the files one more time, even though she already knew them by heart. The envelope had long since disappeared—locked away in a drawer back in her dorm room. But the contents were now on the USB drive she wore around her neck. Every single piece of evidence that could bring Santiago down was there. And now, it was just hours away from going public.
Or so she thought.
—Did you see this?
It was Mariana, one of the editors, holding up her phone.
Antonella frowned.
—What is it?
Mariana handed it to her.
It was a post from Santiago.
A long one, trying to sound like a clarification. A misunderstanding. A passionate defense of his work. It even had scanned documents—alleged audits, approvals, stamps. Antonella was sure it was all fake. She knew the truth.
The post was already spreading through the university's channels. Comments, shares, arguments. It was working.
—I can't believe it —murmured Antonella.
—What are you gonna do? —Mariana asked, clearly worried.
Antonella stood up, her gaze fierce.
—I'm publishing the evidence anyway. He committed a crime, and he needs to face it. But what I have won't be enough now. We need something else. Something stronger. Something undeniable.
—Oh Antonella, I had no idea you were this committed to the truth, to exposing that criminal —Mariana said, clearly moved. She really believed Antonella was just trying to reveal the truth.
—Of course, girl. That villain's gotta pay —Antonella said with firm resolve.
Ugh, if only I didn't need this girl to bring Santiago and the others down.
She grabbed her bag and left without another word.
...
Santiago closed his laptop and exhaled hard. The adrenaline still hadn't worn off, but he felt better. The post had been a gamble, but it felt like it might work. If he could control the narrative first, maybe he could control the fallout.
His phone buzzed with a text.
One word:
—Trash.
He stared at it for a moment. Then another message came through:
—I can't believe I trusted you.
He recognized the number.
Semiel.
He felt a knot in his chest.
He thought they were friends.
Semiel had helped him with Antonella—they had all agreed to go against her together.
But now, he despised him.
...
Semiel was sitting on a bench behind the chemistry building, smoking despite the signs. His eyes were bloodshot, and his jaw kept tightening every few seconds.
He watched students pass by—talking, laughing, unaware.
He used to feel invisible in that place, but today he felt like a ghost.
No one saw him. No one cared. Not even Santiago.
—Trash —he muttered to no one in particular.
He checked his phone. More notifications. A message from Santiago, which he didn't even bother to open.
I thought we were friends. How could he do something like that?
He even kept it from us. I thought he'd been blackmailed too, like me...
But what he did—it's a crime. He has to pay for it.
I need to get him away from Saval, or he could drag us all down.
...
Antonella had returned to her dorm, uneasy.
She stared at the wall above her bed, covered with pinned notes—names, dates, connections.
Everything led to Hernein.
And now, to Santiago.
Her phone rang.
—Mariana?
—You're not gonna believe this. One of my sources says they know someone who could help us.
—Who?
—I don't know yet, but I'll find out soon. Wanna come?
Antonella frowned.
—I'm on my way.