My Roommate Called My Dad My Sugar Daddy? Oops, There Goes Her Fellowship Chapter 03

My Roommate Called My Dad My Sugar Daddy? Oops, There Goes Her Fellowship Chapter 03

I saved the entire thread and took screenshots of every comment.

Then I contacted my attorney, Ryan Sutter.

Ryan wrote back quickly.

Ryan: [Fighting with people in the comments accomplishes nothing.]

Ryan: [Preserve everything and send the platform a formal request to retain the original post data.]

Ryan: [Tomorrow, submit the hotel footage, payment records, and proof that the man in the photo is your father.]

Ryan: [If any chat screenshots surface, save the highest-quality copies so we can have them examined.]

I had barely finished reading when my phone buzzed again.

Claire had messaged me.

Claire: [Nora, I didn’t post that.]

Claire: [But things are where they are now, so explain yourself properly tomorrow and stop pursuing what happened in our room.]

Claire: [I don’t want you humiliated either.]

I stared at those lines until my eyes burned.

She did not want me humiliated.

She had already driven in the knife, and now she was pretending to care whether it hurt.

Overnight, I became the newest topic in the department.

As I walked toward the academic building that morning, the voices behind me dropped to whispers.

“That’s her, right?”

“The one who’s the top fellowship candidate.”

“I heard the bag cost eighteen grand.”

“Who is the guy, though?”

I stopped and turned around to look.

Both girls immediately looked away.

A knot tightened in my chest.

I had been treated unfairly before.

But this time was different.

Someone had twisted four years of hard work and my parents’ love into something shameful, then thrown it back in my face.

Rachel called me into her office.

She had already seen the posts, and her expression was grim.

“Nora, don’t read the comments for now.”

“The department is holding a hearing this morning. The fellowship selection committee, the financial aid office, and student affairs will all be there.”

“Do you have your materials ready?”

I nodded and put the folder on her desk.

“My transcript, competition awards, publication acceptance, evaluation records, and the fellowship criteria. I brought everything.”

“Plus the hotel reservation, the private dining room booking, the cake order, the payment records, and documents proving he is my father.”

Rachel flipped through several pages, and her expression eased.

“Good.”

She paused.

“Will your parents be coming?”

“Yes.”

It was the first time I had mentioned my parents.

They had not arrived yet.

I had called home the night before.

My mother had barely heard the first sentence before her voice began to shake with anger.

She said, “We celebrate our daughter earning a fellowship nomination, and someone turns it into something filthy?”

My father said only one thing.

“I’ll be at the hearing tomorrow.”

I did not cry.

But after I hung up, I sat at my desk for a long time.

I was hurt, but I was even angrier.

I refused to let a gift from my parents become evidence of wrongdoing.

And I refused to be treated like I was guilty simply because someone had thrown mud at me.

At nine thirty, Claire appeared outside the department conference room.

She was dressed plainly and carried the canvas bag she had used for three years.

She stopped when she saw me.

“Nora.”

“Can we talk first?”