Sienna froze for a moment, then felt her heart nearly burst with glee. Dr. Morgan had insisted he needed more proof—and now that Professor Hart's missing purse was literally in Jasmine's hands, that was the strongest evidence yet.
"All right, Jasmine," Sienna said triumphantly, "you still claim you didn't pick up the money—so how did Professor Hart's purse end up with you?"
Before Jasmine could respond, Sienna snatched the bag from her. At this point, whether there was any cash left inside was beside the point: the bag itself was a far more damning piece of evidence.
"I found this purse by the lake," Jasmine said honestly, still stunned by how events were unfolding.
"Heh, you've got nerve," Sienna sneered. "So you 'found' it? Where's your evidence? Any witnesses to back that up?"
Jasmine's mind raced, but she didn't want to lie. "I was with Grayson at the lake when I found it—he saw the whole thing," she said softly.
Laughing scornfully, Sienna waved her hand. "You've got to be kidding. Grayson's your boyfriend—and the money belonged to Professor Hart. You two stole it! And now you expect us to take Grayson as your 'witness'? Do criminals testify on their own behalf?!"
Riding this wave of triumph, Sienna proceeded to summarize the earlier allegations for Professor Hart's benefit: "He donated fifty thousand at the fundraising gala, so we all know he and Jasmine must have split the money they found. Right, Professor Hart? It was them who pocketed your million."
"Are you saying Grayson…he's Jasmine's boyfriend?" Heart pounding, Professor Hart—who had known Grayson as a conscientious, earnest student—was utterly stunned by this claim. She could scarcely believe it. Yet she hadn't been there herself, and Sienna's words sounded convincing enough.
"But that can't be," Professor Hart murmured, her voice trembling. "Jasmine came here just to see me. I was talking with her—"
Sienna cut her off, stepping forward eagerly. "Professor Hart, don't you get it? Jasmine came to visit you on purpose, to pry details out of you about how you lost the money. The more she knows, the better she can cover her tracks! She's the wolf in sheep's clothing—she's got ulterior motives."
Sienna's manipulative rhetoric hit Professor Hart like a tidal wave. Already reeling from the shock of losing her money, she now faced the possibility that her two most trusted students—one of whom had always been so respectful and the other so vulnerable—had betrayed her in the worst possible way. The pain in her eyes deepened.
"Professor Hart," Sienna continued, "is there any evidence left that you haven't already turned over? We need to collect every scrap, just in case."
Professor Hart's voice was brittle. "Well…there's my ATM withdrawal receipt in the office, and my phone is in there too—I had taken photos of the cash and the purse right after I withdrew the money…" She glanced toward Jasmine, her face pale.
"Dr. Morgan," Sienna said, grabbing the older man's sleeve, "let's go to Professor Hart's office now and gather those documents!" She turned to her colleague, eyes shining with zeal. "Right away!"
Dr. Morgan, already bubbling with self-satisfaction at how utterly their accusations were sticking, wasted no time. He dialed Luca's number. "Bring a few people to the clinic right away. We're not letting Jasmine leave." Hanging up, Dr. Morgan felt a thrill of triumph. In his mind, it didn't matter who truly benefited or suffered from this scandal—what mattered was that he and Sienna had "uncovered" it. He regarded it as a major coup.
As for Jasmine, she sat on the clinic floor in a daze. She couldn't imagine fleeing now: seeing the hurt and disappointment in Professor Hart's eyes broke her heart. She was terrified to contemplate what might happen if the crowd's anger turned further against her.
Moments later, Sienna and Dr. Morgan arrived at the Financial Aid Office in the Academic Support Building.
"This is Professor Hart's office," Sienna announced as she pushed open the door.
Inside, Grayson was just lifting a pen, preparing to scribble his anonymous note when the door swung open abruptly. Sienna and Dr. Morgan burst in.
"Grayson—what are you doing in Professor Hart's office?" Dr. Morgan blurted, eyeing him suspiciously before pouncing and pinning him against the desk.
Sienna threw back her head and laughed. "See, Dr. Morgan? Jasmine went to the hospital to interrogate Professor Hart, and this loser clearly came here to destroy evidence! He must have realized that if he shredded every paper, it would be impossible to trace it back to them!"
Dr. Morgan snatched the slip of paper from Grayson's hand. "What's this he's holding?"
Sienna grabbed it and flipped it over. It was Professor Hart's bank withdrawal receipt. Her lips curled into a cruel smile. "Good thing we got here in time. Otherwise, he would've destroyed it."
"We're mistaken," Grayson protested, his brow furrowed. He still wasn't certain what Sienna and Dr. Morgan were accusing him of—but it was clear they had jumped to conclusions.
"Save your excuses," Dr. Morgan snarled. "Come with us to the clinic for a face-to-face confrontation!"
They dragged Grayson out of the office and hurried toward the campus clinic.
On the way, two female students suddenly rushed up to Grayson, faces alight with excitement.
"Aren't you that low-key trust-fund kid from the fundraiser?" one exclaimed. "This is our first time seeing you up close—so surreal!"
"We're such big fans!" the other added. One girl produced a notebook and pen, holding them out. "Can we get your autograph?"
Grayson barely registered their words. The momentary attention felt like a blur.
"Heh heh—fools," Sienna interjected, shoving the two fans aside. "You've been duped! He's not a trust-fund kid at all—he found Professor Hart's missing million and pocketed it! The donations he's made came from that money!"
"What? No way!" The two girls gaped at him in shock.
"I heard it was funds meant for low-income students during the Mid-Autumn Festival," Sienna added with righteous indignation. "You have no shame, using that for your own benefit."
"I really thought he was a good person," one of the girls muttered in disappointment before stomping away.
"A big fake," Sienna called after them as she shoved Grayson. "Let's go."
By the time they reached the clinic, the ward was already packed with curious onlookers. Inside, Luca and a couple of others stood guard over Jasmine. Tanner, Sylvia, and Ryder had also arrived, eager to witness the spectacle. Word of a student who'd found a million and kept it had spread like wildfire, drawing a crowd.
"Who was it that found the money and took it?" one onlooker demanded, craning to peer inside.
"That's her on the floor right there!" someone pointed at Jasmine Ramirez.
"Wow, she's pretty—and dressed so well. How could someone like her do this?" another murmured.
"But her clothes were paid for with found money; she used her cash to buy a designer outfit, even though she's supposedly from a poor family," a third explained. "Professor Hart really took care of her—got her extra aid, bought her meals, and now she betrays her…"
"Low blow," someone said quietly. "Heard her boyfriend is in the same project group—another poor student—but they both spent the money. He even made a huge show at the fundraiser, donating fifty thousand of the stolen cash. Using other people's money to show off—that's disgusting."
"A real disgrace," someone sighed. "Just like a dog and a bitch over there."
Their comments drilled into Jasmine's ears like jackhammers. She looked around the cramped hallway, seeing no friendly face, only a sea of scowling strangers. Panic surged through her. She felt like the weakest runt in a storm, alone and defenseless.
Suddenly, a voice called out from the crowd: "She still has the nerve to sit there? Bound her hands and have her squat on the floor!"
In an instant, someone grabbed Jasmine's arms from behind, elbows twisting until her hands were pinned to her neck. Others seized her legs, forcing her to squat on the hard floor. It was as though she were a criminal being literally boxed in for public humiliation.
Jasmine, a small and fragile girl, couldn't fight back; she was powerless to resist.
"Stop that. Jasmine was just greedy—and honestly, the evidence is too overwhelming. She must have picked up the money herself," Professor Hart pleaded weakly from her bedside, her gentle voice drowned out by the mob's shouts. She wanted no one—least of all her students—to treat Jasmine so cruelly, but no one was listening.
Then someone shouted, "Look! Here come her accomplices!"
Heads swiveled toward the doorway as Sienna and Dr. Morgan pushed Grayson through the throng.
"Shameless!" "A broke kid found money and pretends to be rich!" "That money was for impoverished students—how dare you spend it!" "Professor Hart is hospitalized because of this, and you're out there acting like a tycoon?" "You're scum!"
It was as if Grayson were a criminal being led to his execution. The crowd's vile taunts followed him all the way. But Grayson only cared about one thing now: Jasmine. He needed to see that she was safe.
"Jasmine…"
When he spotted her—hunched on the floor, soaked in tears and spit—Grayson's heart shattered. Anger boiled inside him. He surged forward like a storm-driven tiger, knocking away the students flanking Jasmine and kneeling beside her.
Gently, he brushed a strand of Jasmine's silky hair away from her tear-streaked face. Her eyes were red and swollen—seeing her like this made him tremble with guilt. None of this would have happened if not for him: he'd bought her the clothes, he'd made the donation in her name. Even if it was a misunderstanding, Jasmine alone had suffered.
"Grayson…" Jasmine's voice cracked as she saw him. Her sobs turned to relieved cries as she collapsed into his arms—a vulnerable cat that had just been chased in a storm, finding its safe place in its owner's embrace.
At that tender moment, Sienna's cold voice rang out. "Cut the act. Don't pretend!" Sienna was furious—jealous of how effortlessly Grayson held Jasmine in public. The sight of them together made her blood boil.
"Enough! Where's the rest of the money?" a student shouted. "How much did you really spend?"
"Pay back what you've already wasted!" someone else bellowed. "Even if you return the money, you deserve to be expelled!"
"You can't outrun responsibility! That money was stolen, and now you're done for!"
Chaos erupted again—voices demanding that Grayson give a full confession. The school's Student Conduct Office had arrived, the attendant leveling a stern glance at them.
"Grayson, tell us exactly how you found and spent that money," the conduct officer commanded. "Since you're still a student, we'll handle this internally—no need to call the police. But you must cooperate."
Grayson, one arm still wrapped protectively around Jasmine, took a slow breath. His gaze flickered as he searched for the right words.
"I…did not find that million," he said quietly, staring at the officer.
"Damn it, he's playing us!" someone snarled from the crowd. "When it's clear as day, he still lies! Call the cops—let them teach him a lesson!"
A dozen voices rose in angry consensus, but the conduct officer raised a hand, demanding order. "Be quiet! If he doesn't cooperate, we'll have no choice but to involve the police."
Grayson's lips curved into a small, bitter laugh as he pulled out his phone and dialed. The murmurs around him turned to mocking laughter and incredulous snorts.
"If you didn't find the money, how did you buy those expensive clothes for Jasmine? How did you have funds to donate fifty thousand at the gala?" the conduct officer demanded.
"Spit it out, idiot!" someone shouted. "No way you won the lottery—if you did, the lottery commission would have records. We'll check!" Sienna chimed in with a cold laugh.
"It wasn't a lottery," Grayson said, fixing his gaze on Sienna—the girl he once had feelings for, now eager to see him destroyed. Still, something inside him flared with defiance. As he spoke, a resolute light blossomed in his eyes: "Sienna, today I'll tell you—my name is Grayson, and I am a real, full-fledged trust-fund kid. That money was mine."
A collective gasp rippled through the room.
"No way—stop bragging!" someone shouted.
"You can't just claim that—if he were a trust-fund child, why wear shabby clothes and take financial aid during freshman year?" Tanner scoffed, stepping forward with Sylvia and Ryder. "If everyone who wears old clothes is a trust-fund kid, then we're all rich!"
Grayson paid him no mind. Instead, he took a deep breath, letting his eyes sweep over the gathered crowd. He spoke steadily: "I'll tell you all something. Every one of you has used my family's products. You eat food my family's company produces. You wear clothes made by my family's factories. You drive cars built by my family's enterprises. You use networks and power my family's industries provide. Your parents benefit from my family's banking and finance businesses…"
"Holy crap—this dude's lost it!" someone shouted, but a handful of others leaned closer.
"I mean it," Grayson continued, ignoring the taunts. "My family touches every aspect of your daily lives. So when I chose to live as if I were poor, I watched how people treated me. I wanted to know what it was like to be one of you: to be poor, to be despised, to be ignored by those I helped. All you saw was a struggling student—never the wealth behind me."
The Student Conduct officer scowled. "Enough! Grayson, you're not being taken seriously. If you don't cooperate, we'll bring in the police."
Grayson let out a soft chuckle. "Very well." He tapped Sienna's shoulder to catch her attention, then raised his phone to his ear. "Nathaniel, send one hundred million in cash—deliver it immediately to Ward 103 of Hawthorne University Clinic."
At that moment, the room exploded into shouts—some in disbelief, some with envy, most simply stunned into silence as Grayson's words sank in. His declaration had upended their assumptions: the "loser" they thought they knew was, in fact, far richer than they could've ever imagined.