I Exposed My Stepsister’s Stolen Elite University Life Chapter 04

I Exposed My Stepsister’s Stolen Elite University Life Chapter 04

The other end of the line remained silent for a long time before an elderly, excited voice finally answered.

“Nora? Is… is this Nora Whitaker, the one who received an ATAR of 99.85?”

“It’s me, Mr. Grant.” My nose stung, and tears nearly filled my eyes.

Mr. Grant had been my Year 12 Legal Studies teacher and year adviser, a strict but warmhearted man. He had always had the highest hopes for me and said I would make a real mark on the legal profession.

“My dear, where have you been all these years?” His voice trembled almost imperceptibly. “When your university offer came through, I was so happy that I couldn’t sleep all night. Then you never enrolled. I called your house, and your stepmother told me you had left to find work. I never believed her.”

“Mr. Grant, it’s a long story.”

I gave him a brief account of how Madison had taken my university place.

Mr. Grant became so furious that he started coughing.

“This is outrageous! What they did was criminal!”

“You’ve suffered so much, Nora.” He sighed. “Tell me what you need. As long as I’m still on my feet, I’ll help you.”

“I need you to help me prove what I was really like back then.”

“Of course! I still have all the grade sheets and Trial HSC papers from your cohort. I remember every mark you ever received.”

After the call ended, warmth spread through my chest.

At least someone in this world still remembered me and believed me.

Next, I began scrolling through my contacts.

After ten years of delivering food, I had travelled through every corner of the city and met people from every walk of life.

My phone held thousands of numbers—office workers, construction workers, small restaurant owners, and even a few people who operated in the city’s shadows.

I found a contact saved under the name “Scorpion.”

Scorpion was an information broker. If the price was right, there was almost nothing he couldn’t dig up.

He answered.

“Who is this?”

“Scorpion, it’s Nora, the delivery rider from the south side.”

“Oh, Nora. What happened? Did someone steal your bike again?”

“No. I need to find someone, or more accurately, investigate something.”

I told him that ten years earlier, my stepmother might have hired a fixer to falsify my school and university admissions records.

“A ten-year-old case won’t be easy,” Scorpion said thoughtfully.

“Name your price.”

“That’s all I needed to hear. Send me everything you know.”

Not long after I ended the call, a message from Scorpion appeared.

[I found him. The fixer who handled it for them ten years ago is still alive.]

A video clip lasting little more than ten seconds followed.

In the footage, a grey-haired man sat behind the bars of a prison visiting room. He raised his head toward the camera and asked hoarsely, “You’re telling me the girl who took someone else’s university place is a solicitor now?”

After watching the video, I returned the call from Madison’s assistant.

“I’ve agreed to take part in the reconciliation livestream.”

The woman on the other end let out an audible breath of relief. “All right, Ms. Whitaker. I hope you won’t do anything else to complicate matters.”

I looked at the files Scorpion had just sent me and laughed softly.

“Don’t worry. I won’t get a single word wrong during tomorrow’s livestream.”

“Can you guarantee that, Ms. Whitaker? People who say the wrong thing get punished.”

I smiled.

I was never the one who got the words wrong.