His innocent wife is a dangerous hacker.

Chapter 768 I hope you rot

"They believed her. They always believed her. She was Krystal. She was perfect. She was kind. She was generous. Why would she lie? What reason could she possibly have?"

Zara wiped her eyes with the back of her hand.

"I was suspended. They said I was unstable. They said I was a danger to other students. They said I needed professional help."

Her voice dropped to a whisper.

"I was expelled eventually. I lost my scholarship. I lost my friends. I lost my future. I lost everything I had worked for."

She looked at the camera, her eyes red, her face wet.

"I was just a broken girl for years. I couldn’t get into another school. I couldn’t get a job. I couldn’t even leave my room. I just stayed there staring at the wall, wondering what I had done wrong, wondering why no one believed me, wondering if I was the crazy one after all."

The screen split. Documents appeared, emails, timestamps, project files, proof, evidence. Everything Zara had said, backed by records, by dates, by the cold hard truth.

"But no matter what you did to me," Zara said, her voice stronger now, rising from somewhere deep, "my idea was original. It was mine. You couldn’t steal that from me. You couldn’t take that away."

She lifted her chin.

"I rebuilt my project from scratch. Every word. Every source. Every conclusion. I did it alone. I did it without help. I did it without anyone believing in me. I did it in that same small room, at that same cheap desk, drinking that same burnt coffee."

A small smile crossed her face.

"I submitted it again. To a different competition. It was bigger than the last one. More prestigious. More competitive."

She paused.

"It was approved. It won first place."

The audience gasped again.

"My days will change. I will rise. I will become something. I will be someone. Not because of luck. Not because of connections. Not because I stole from anyone. Because I earned it."

Her smile faded.

"But you? You stole only half my project. Half of something that was never yours. It was useless to you. It was worthless. You couldn’t finish it because you didn’t understand it. You couldn’t defend it because you didn’t create it. You couldn’t stand behind it because you had no idea what it meant."

She leaned closer to the camera, her eyes boring into the lens.

"I wonder how many innocent people you have caught in your web, Krystal. I wonder how many lives you have ruined. How many futures you have stolen. How many people you have left broken in your wake."

The screen shifted, showing more evidence, more names, more victims. A list that seemed to grow longer with each passing second.

Zara sat back in her chair.

"I hope you rot," she said quietly.

The screen went dark. The audience was silent.

Then the screen lit up again, this time with bank statements. Krystal’s bank account. A list of deposits, small amounts, large amounts, all from students. Names appeared beside each deposit, a roll call of the people she had deceived. And beside them a list of withdrawals. A list of purchases.

Laser hair removal. Skin smoothing treatment. Hair treatment. Expensive dress. Designer bag. High-end makeup. Spa weekends. Restaurant dinners. Hotel stays.

Every dollar that had been donated for Krystal’s mother was spent on Krystal herself.

The audience erupted.

"That’s my money!" someone shouted from the back.

"I gave her my scholarship money! My parents worked so hard for that!"

"I skipped meals for that! I went hungry because I believed her!"

"She said her mother was dying! She said she needed help!"

A girl stood up in the middle of the audience. She was young with red hair and freckles, and her face was flushed with anger, her hands shaking at her sides.

"Krystal also did something to me!" she shouted. "On freshers day she put my name on the dance performance list without my consent. I didn’t know how to dance. I had never danced in my life. I had two left feet. I had to perform in front of everyone. I made a fool of myself. People laughed at me for weeks. Months. I still hear them whispering when I walk past."

Tears streamed down her face.

"Because of her I became a joke. Because of her I stopped going to parties. I stopped making friends. I stopped believing in myself. I stopped believing that anyone could ever like me."

Another girl stood. "She did the same to me. She put my name on a singing competition. I can’t sing. I sounded like a dying cat. Everyone recorded it. It’s still on the internet. People still send it to me."

Another. "She spread rumors about me. Said I was stealing from the student council. I almost lost my position. I almost got expelled."

Another. "Her friends bullied me. They called me names. They pushed me in the hallway. They made my life hell for an entire year."

Another. "They are all worse. Every single one of them. Krystal and her friends. They are all the same."

The accusations came faster now, a flood of voices, each one angrier than the last, each one telling a story of pain and betrayal.

Karl stood up from his seat. His face was hard, his jaw tight, his eyes blazing. He had been waiting for this moment. He had dreamed of this moment.

"And the placement she received tonight," he said, his voice loud and clear, "the one she was so proud of, the one she stood on this stage and accepted, it was not her work."

The audience went quiet.

"She stole it from Bella." Karl pointed toward the back of the auditorium where Bella sat. "Bella did all the research. Bella made all the slides, stayed up late every night, working, preparing, perfecting. And Krystal took it. She had Mira register the group without Bella’s name. She presented Bella’s work as her own. She stood in front of professors and judges and accepted credit for something she didn’t do."

The audience turned to look at Bella.

She did not look up. Her fingers kept moving on her tablet, but her lips were curved in a small satisfied smile. To others however she appeared sad.