LOGINPOV: RileyI read my own student file for the first time at nine-fifteen in the morning.Amara had obtained a partial copy through a source inside the registrar's office, the same junior auditor who had been building the parallel compliance record for four months. He had pulled it forty minutes after our meeting at the coffee shop, moved it through a channel that bypassed the senior officer entirely, and sent it to Amara's encrypted account in three scanned pages that landed on her laptop while we were still sitting at the table.She turned the screen toward me without commentary. That was the right call. Commentary would have softened it and softening it would have been its own kind of dishonesty.I read it the way I read everything that mattered. Completely. Without flinching.The file was careful. That was the first thing I noticed and the thing that made it worse rather than better. It was not crude or obviously malicious. It was the work of a person who understood institutional l
POV: RileyThe skating placement review notice sat on my phone screen for exactly ten seconds before I acted on it.Not with panic. With the specific cold efficiency of someone who has been managing a performance for three days and understands that every move the other side makes is information. I photographed the notification. Sent it to Naomi. Sent it to the woman on the phone. Then I set my phone face down on the coffee shop table and looked at Amara."He's moving through the skating program now," I said. "My placement is under review.""When was the notice sent," Amara asked.Ray checked his phone. "Eight forty-two.""Twenty-five minutes after Preethi's fellowship was flagged," Naomi said through the phone speaker between us. She had called in when the notification came through, her voice tight and precise. "He's not reacting to one thing. He's running a sequence.""A prepared sequence," Amara said. She said it quietly, the way you say something you have been dreading confirming.
POV: RileyHer voice was calm the way deep water is calm.Not still. Not shallow. The kind of calm that has pressure underneath it, that has been moving for a long time beneath a surface that does not show the current. I had been expecting something... urgency, relief, the particular brightness of a person who has been waiting a long time for a call that finally came. Instead Amara sounded like someone who had already done the waiting and come out the other side of it into something quieter and more resolved."I was wondering how long it would take you to call," she said."You knew I would.""I knew when Preethi's fellowship got flagged at eight-seventeen that you were already in that building," she said. "Which meant you were moving faster than I anticipated. Which meant I needed to be ready.""Are you on campus?""Coffee shop on Garfield. Off campus. Quieter.""Give me twenty minutes," I said."I'll be here."I looked at Ray. He was already picking up his jacket.Naomi stayed with P
POV: RileyWe moved Preethi in eleven minutes.Not her belongings, not her life. Just the folder. The fourteen months of documentation she had been carrying in the bottom drawer of a filing cabinet under archive equipment, waiting for the right person to ask the right question. I called Ray while Preethi put her coat on and he was outside the building in four minutes, which meant he had been close already, which meant he had been doing the same thing I had been doing — staying near rather than far, operating on instinct rather than plan."Fellowship paused," I told him the moment he appeared in the doorway. "Eight-seventeen this morning. Three minutes after I knocked on her door."His jaw tightened. "Someone is watching the archive room.""Someone is watching everything," Preethi said from behind me. Her voice was steady but her hands on the folder were not entirely still. "I assumed the archive role gave me cover. My work is archival, routine, completely unremarkable to anyone who do
POV: RileyPreethi was in the digital archive room at eight-fifteen in the morning.I knew she would be because I had been paying attention since September in ways I had not understood were useful until now. She arrived before anyone else, stayed later than anyone else, and worked through her lunch hour on the days when the archive backlog was heavy. She was the kind of person who treated other people's work with more care than she treated her own comfort, and watching her do it from across the photography storage room back in September I had thought: I understand that. I had not understood yet that the system she was caring for had been partially funded by money stolen from her.I knocked on the archive room door at eight-twenty. She looked up from a monitor covered in thumbnail images and her face moved through something when she saw me... not suspicion exactly, more the careful stillness of someone who had learned not to open doors too quickly."Riley," she said. Neutral."Do you h
POV: RileyThe address was two hours away and I needed forty minutes to think first.Ray watched me read the message. Naomi watched Ray watch me. The library hummed its quiet fluorescent hum around us and I sat with the phone face down on the table and let the weight of the last hour settle into something I could actually carry."Talk to me," Ray said. "Out loud. All of it.""He's corrupt," I said. "Not just afraid. Not just controlling. Corrupt." The word tasted different from the others I had been using. Harder. More permanent. "He stole graduate student research funding for eight years. Eight years of students who came to this university believing their work was going to be supported, who received approval letters and disbursement confirmations and sat across from my father in his office while he smiled at them and used their research grants to pay for the system he built around me.""Riley...""I'm not spiraling," I said. "I'm being accurate. There's a difference." I looked at him
POV: RayMonday came like a punishment. I stood outside the athletics media room with my hands in my jacket pockets, telling myself I was calm. I was not calm. I'd barely slept. Every time I closed my eyes I saw the photograph on Hartwell's desk, the girl with the laughing eyes and the swinging hai
Riley The Rink Bar was everything I hated about hockey culture crammed into one sticky, overheated room.Blue and gold jerseys clashed everywhere I looked, Falcons and Eagles pretending to be civil while shooting daggers at each other over red plastic cups. The music was too loud, the bass vibrati
Riley's Pov Marvel,” I said, the word coming out as a relieved sigh.He didn’t smile. His eyes, usually so warm when they landed on me, were hard. “What’s going on?”“I was looking for you. I came down to… I saw the end of the game.” I took a step toward him, wanting to bridge the gap, to get us a
RileyI had done exactly one thing in my entire life without my father’s approval, and I was determined not to mess it up.Figure skating.It was my secret rebellion, planned and saved for in silence. While my father graded papers and muttered about “frivolous pursuits,” I watched old Olympic routi







