Cyrilla bit her lip and shook her head. “No. Really. I apologized because I meant it.”
“Everyone knows that necklace means everything to you. You wouldn’t use it to frame someone. This has to be Giselle. Why are you still scared of her? You’ve got the Shapiro name behind you!”
Cyrilla lowered her eyes. “I can’t use my background to bully classmates. And Lucian’s in the military. How could I bother him over something this small? Besides, there wasn’t real proof it was Giselle. Apologizing is fine.”
“You’re too kind,” a girl sighed. “There aren’t cameras in the classroom—of course there’s no proof. If someone steals, they won’t leave evidence. And it happened during gym, when everyone was changing. She was the only one in the room.”
“Alright,” Cyrilla said, forcing a gentle, resolute smile. “Let’s drop it. We’ve got midterms soon. We should focus on studying.”
“True. And with Hallie tutoring you, the teachers keep saying you’ve improved like crazy. If you take first in the class this time, you’ll definitely get into the advanced track.”
Cyrilla smiled modestly. “I’ll try.”
Her grades really had climbed under Hallie’s tutoring. She answered questions constantly in class. Giselle, on the other hand, never raised her hand, and her homework was always half blank. She was still stuck in the lower middle.
Giselle caught the disdainful looks from the students clustered around Cyrilla, overhearing them whisper, “Giselle backed the wrong person. She’s going to end up at the bottom.”
Giselle didn’t react. She simply took out a set of senior-year study notes Loyce had prepared—key points and shortcuts Loyce had marked back when she was in school. Quiana had once used them herself to scrape through an academic crisis and climb the rankings.
Even just scanning the highlights left Giselle stunned. Every topic Loyce picked, every explanation, was sharp, valuable, and unbelievably clear. There was no way someone “dead last” could have written this.
Thinking of the ridiculous rumors about Loyce made Giselle’s chest ache. How could someone this good have been treated that way? At least now… someone was protecting Loyce.
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Loyce had taken the memory card Lucian gave her and, on the drive to the airport, plugged it into her laptop and opened the camera files.
The next moment, Quiana’s sobbing confession—sniffling, ugly crying, even bowing her head and begging forgiveness—played across the screen.

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