Chapter 4

The next morning, St. Oak High was suffocated under a blanket of eerie tension.

I'd barely slept. Jason's malicious text had played on loop in my mind all night.

The entire school—students and faculty—was summoned to the auditorium for what they called an "emergency assembly." I shrank into my usual corner in the back row, cold all over.

The principal stood at the podium, his face ashen.

"Today, we must address an extremely serious matter concerning campus safety. This involves St. Oak High's reputation, and the true character of our so-called 'model' student."

The auditorium lights suddenly dimmed.

The massive projection screen behind the podium flickered to life.

The moment the image appeared, everything inside me went cold.

It was a shaky video from four years ago. The background—that abandoned chemical plant.

The video was grainy, distorted, silent.

On screen: a thin girl, her face obscured, cornered by several figures. Then a tall boy burst into frame like something possessed, grabbing a steel pipe from the ground and swinging it viciously at one of the attackers.

The guy collapsed, face covered in blood. But the boy didn't stop. He kept hitting him, fist after fist, with a ferocity that made your stomach turn—as if the next blow would kill him.

The frame froze on the boy's face.

It was Michael from four years ago. And the bloodied figure on the ground was Jason.

The auditorium erupted in disbelieving screams.

"Oh my God! That's Michael? How could he be so violent?"

"He almost killed someone!"

"How is a criminal like that our Model UN president? Yale's definitely rescinding his acceptance!"

Whispers crashed through the hall like a tidal wave.

Jason emerged from the side of the stage, microphone in hand. He'd even taped gauze to his forehead—the perfect victim, face twisted in righteous anger.

"You all saw it." Jason's voice boomed through the speakers, filling every corner. "This is the transfer legend you worship. Four years ago, over some petty grudge, he tried to murder me in that abandoned factory. If someone hadn't intervened, I'd be dead."

He paused, his gaze cutting through the crowd to find me in the back row. His lips curled into a cruel, triumphant smile.

"He's a dangerous individual with severe violent tendencies! I demand the Board expel Michael immediately and turn him over to the police!"

"No..." I sat frozen, trembling, hands clamped over my mouth.

It wasn't like that!

They'd cut the video!

Jason didn't show the first half—where he threw chemicals at me first, where he started the fire to burn me alive! Michael only fought back to save me!

I shot to my feet, desperate to scream the truth.

But then Michael stood up from the front row.

He didn't look at Jason on stage. Didn't look at the enraged principal. He turned around, his dark eyes cutting through hundreds of heads to land precisely on mine.

At an angle only I could see, he shook his head slightly.

It was a look both commanding and pleading.

That look said: Don't come forward. Don't destroy four years of hiding.

Tears spilled down my face. My legs turned to lead. I collapsed back into my seat.

"Michael, do you have anything to say for yourself?" the principal demanded.

Michael turned away from me, spine still straight as steel.

"The person in the video is me," he said calmly. "I hit him."

The hall erupted again in contemptuous gasps.

"But he deserved it," Michael added coldly.

"Enough!"

The principal slammed his hand on the desk. "Your behavior is a severe violation of school policy and the law! Security, take him to the isolation room downstairs."

"At three o'clock this afternoon, the Board will convene a special hearing to formally announce his expulsion and hand him over to the police!"

Two massive security guards moved forward, grabbing Michael's arms from both sides.

He didn't resist.

As they escorted him past my row, his footsteps paused for one second.

The guards urged him forward.

He didn't turn his head. But in a voice so low only I could hear, he said:

"Don't cry. You've worked so hard to hide these four years. Today, it's my turn to protect you... Stay hidden. Whatever happens, don't reveal yourself."

He left.

The auditorium doors slammed shut behind him and took everything that mattered with him.

I stood there frozen, drowning in the curses spilling from every direction.

Jason stood on stage, looking down at me like he'd already won.

He had won. He'd used my deepest fear, everything I'd tried to hide, to destroy a true genius.

Michael could have had the brightest future. He could have gone Ivy League. He could have stood at a podium at the United Nations. But to protect the secret beneath my mask, he wouldn't even defend himself.

Something inside my chest—something that had been suffocated, strangled by fear for so long—finally snapped.

All that cowardice. All that self-loathing. Four years of hating the scars on my face... In the face of Michael's destruction, it all transformed into white-hot fury.

I'd been hiding from some truths for far too long.

"Quiet! Everyone return to your classrooms in an orderly fashion—" The principal was trying to restore order.

"Wait."

A hoarse but startlingly clear voice rang out from the back of the auditorium.

The entire hall went dead silent. Hundreds of pairs of eyes—including Jason's and the principal's on stage—swung around to stare at the "freak" in the black mask in the last row.

I stepped out of the shadows and started walking toward the brightly lit aisle.

With every step, my fingertips trembled. But my spine was straighter than it had been in four years.

"Elsa? What are you doing? Sit down!" a teacher shouted, frowning.

I ignored her. My eyes locked onto Jason, whose expression was starting to crack.

"That video has a first half."

My voice carried through the silent auditorium, reaching every corner.

I raised both hands to the strings of my mask hooked behind my ears.

"Jason didn't tell you why he got beaten four years ago. But I can."

Under the shocked stares of the entire school, under Jason's strangled shout of protest—

I pulled.

The mask came away.