Chapter 5: The Person Behind the Screen
The name on the screen changed everything.
My father stared at the email for several seconds.
Long enough that I knew something was wrong.
Long enough that even Claire stopped crying.
“Who sent it?”” I asked.
My father didn’t answer.
“Dad?””
His eyes slowly lifted from the phone.
And when he looked at me, I saw something I had never seen before.
Fear.
Not anger.
Not disappointment.
Fear.
“Tell me,” I whispered.
My father looked down at the phone again.
Then he turned the screen toward us.
The sender’s name was right there.
*Grandma Evelyn.*
The room became completely silent.
I looked at my grandmother.
She was still standing beside the couch, one hand resting on the back of the chair.
Her face had gone pale.
“No,” she whispered.
My father’s voice was low.
“Mom.””
My grandmother shook her head.
“I didn’t send that.””
Claire looked between them.
“What is happening?””
I couldn’t move.
My grandmother?
The same grandmother who had told me to stop making a scene?
The same grandmother who had watched Claire tear my scholarship letter apart?
I wanted to believe there was an explanation.
There had to be.
Because the alternative hurt too much.
My father tapped the email.
“Mom, this was sent from your account.””
She stepped forward.
“I don’t know anything about that.””
“You’re saying someone used your email?””
“Yes.””
My father studied her face.
“Did anyone have access to your computer?””
My grandmother hesitated.
Just for a second.
But we all saw it.
That hesitation.
My father noticed too.
“Mom.””
She looked away.
“I…”
My heart sank.
“What?””
My grandmother sat down slowly.
“I didn’t want this to happen.””
Nobody spoke.
My father’s expression hardened.
“What do you mean?””
She pressed her hands together.
“I thought I was helping.””
Those four words felt like a door opening.
A door I didn’t want to walk through.
Claire stared at her.
“Grandma?””
My grandmother closed her eyes.
“I never wanted anyone to get hurt.””
My father’s voice became sharper.
“But someone did.””
She nodded.
“I know.””
I looked at her.
“Did you send the email?””
She looked at me.
The sadness in her eyes almost made me look away.
“No.””
A small part of me believed her.
But another part remembered her sitting there.
Watching.
Doing nothing.
My father stepped closer.
“Then explain.””
My grandmother took a deep breath.
“Claire came to me two weeks ago.””
Claire’s face changed.
“Grandma…”
“Don’t.””
My grandmother looked at her.
“You need to tell the truth now.””
Claire looked down.
My grandmother continued.
“She was upset. She told me she felt like nobody cared about her.””
I looked at Claire.
She didn’t deny it.
“She said she was tired of being compared to you.””
My grandmother looked at me.
“I thought she needed comfort.””
My father crossed his arms.
“So you helped her?””
“No.””
My grandmother shook her head.
“I tried to calm her down.””
“Then why was your account used?””
She looked at the floor.
“Because Claire asked me to write a message.””
My stomach tightened.
“What message?””
My grandmother’s voice became quieter.
“She wanted to tell the university that there were concerns about the scholarship.””
Claire covered her face.
“Grandma…”
My father stared at her.
“You helped her accuse her sister?””
“No.””
My grandmother looked at me.
“I didn’t know she was going to accuse her of cheating.””
The room went still.
“You didn’t know?””
My grandmother shook her head.
“She told me she wanted the university to review the application.””
I laughed softly.
Not because it was funny.
Because I didn’t know what else to do.
“So you helped her investigate me?””
My grandmother looked hurt.
“I thought I was protecting both of you.””
“By letting her destroy me?””
“No.””
“Then what?””
My voice cracked.
“What were you protecting me from?””
My grandmother had no answer.
And that hurt more than anything.
Because sometimes the people who hurt you weren’t trying to be cruel.
They were just too afraid to stand up.
My father walked toward the table.
“Where is the computer?””
My grandmother looked confused.
“What?””
“The computer you used.””
“In my room.””
“Show me.””
She slowly stood.
Nobody spoke as we walked down the hallway.
The house suddenly felt unfamiliar.
Every picture on the walls.
Every memory.
Everything felt different.
I followed behind them.
When we reached my grandmother’s room, my father went straight to the desk.
The old laptop sat there.
He opened it.
Claire stayed near the doorway.
Watching.
Waiting.
My father typed something.
Then stopped.
“What?””
I asked.
He didn’t answer.
He looked at Claire.
“What password did you use?””
Claire froze.
“I don’t know.””
My father looked back at the screen.
“You do.””
“No.””
“Claire.””
She swallowed.
Then whispered:
“Grandma’s birthday.””
My grandmother looked at her.
“You knew my password?””
Claire looked away.
“I needed to check something.””
My father opened the laptop.
A few seconds later, his expression changed.
“What?””
I stepped closer.
He turned the screen toward us.
There were files.
Saved documents.
Draft messages.
And one folder.
The folder name made my chest tighten.
*Her Mistakes.*
My father clicked it.
Inside were screenshots.
Articles.
Notes.
All about me.
My achievements.
My grades.
My scholarship applications.
My personal information.
I felt sick.
“How long?””
Nobody answered.
“How long has she been collecting things about me?””
Claire’s eyes filled with tears.
“I wasn’t trying to hurt you.””
I looked at her.
“Then what were you doing?””
She didn’t speak.
My father opened another file.
This one had a document.
A draft.
A letter.
My blood ran cold when I saw the first sentence.
To whom it may concern, I am writing to report suspected academic dishonesty regarding—
My name was there.
I couldn’t read anymore.
My father closed the document.
“This was planned.””
Claire started crying.
“No.””
“Yes.””
“It wasn’t supposed to go that far.””
My father looked at her.
“But it did.””
The worst part was that I believed her.
I believed she didn’t wake up one morning deciding to destroy my life.
It probably started small.
A bitter thought.
A cruel comment.
A secret search.
A lie.
And then one day, she was standing in our living room cutting my future in half.
My grandmother touched my arm.
“Please believe me.””
I looked at her.
“I want to.””
Her eyes filled with tears.
“But I don’t know if I can.””
She looked down.
“I’m sorry.””
I didn’t answer.
Because sorry was important.
But sorry didn’t erase what happened.
My father closed the laptop.
Then his phone rang.
He looked at the screen.
His expression changed.
“Who is it?”” I asked.
He answered.
“Hello?””
Everyone watched him.
A few seconds passed.
Then my father’s face became serious.
“Yes, she’s here.””
He looked at Claire.
My sister stopped breathing.
“Who’s calling?””
My father didn’t respond.
He listened.
Then he said:
“I understand.””
Another pause.
Then:
“No. Don’t cancel anything yet.””
My heart started racing.
“Dad?””
He ended the call.
Nobody spoke.
Finally, he looked at me.
“The university wants to meet with our family tomorrow morning.””
Claire immediately started shaking.
“Are they taking back her scholarship?””
My father looked at her.
“No.””
“Then why?””
He picked up the laptop.
“Because they found something worse.””
My stomach dropped.
“What?””
My father looked at Claire.
“They discovered that the person who submitted the false accusation used information that could only come from inside this house.””
Claire whispered:
“Someone helped me?””
My father shook his head.
“No.””
He looked at the computer.
“Someone helped you look guilty.””
The room went silent.
Because suddenly, the question was no longer why Claire wanted to destroy me.
The question was:
Who had been guiding her?
And why?
Then my father’s phone buzzed again.
A new message appeared.
This time, it wasn’t from the university.
It was from an unknown number.
One sentence.
My father read it.
May you like
And his face turned completely cold.
*“Stop digging, or your daughter won’t be the only one whose future gets destroyed.””*
