The Masked Campus Belle - Chapter 5: Chapter 5
You are reading The Masked Campus Belle, Chapter 5: Chapter 5. Read more chapters of The Masked Campus Belle.
My thumb hovered over Marcus Lowell's contact, ready to text him our breakthrough, when Sophia Langley grabbed my wrist.
"Wait a second," she said, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "Doesn't Marcus seem... off to you?"
I frowned. "What do you mean?"
"Think about it. He's a teacher—he knows this school has cameras everywhere. But he never mentioned them, just kept pushing you to play along with the blackmailer. And after all this time?" She raised an eyebrow. "He's got nothing?"
A cold prickle ran down my spine.
Four days. That's how long we'd been scrambling for answers. Sophia and I had already pieced together clues, but Marcus? Radio silence. His whole "the blackmailer must be on campus" theory? Pure guesswork. No proof.
My stomach twisted as the realization hit.
"Either Marcus isn't actually helping us," I said slowly, "or he's in on it."
Sophia nodded grimly and tugged me toward the security office. "Speculating won't get us anywhere. Let's ID this creep first."
Inside, I played it cool—chatted with the bored security guard about the weather, the terrible cafeteria food, anything but cameras. Finally, I casually dropped, "Yeah, I think I lost my necklace during P.E. on the field. Been searching forever."
The guard took a long sip of his coffee, then smirked. "Kid, if you're angling for camera access, you'll need your advisor's approval and three faculty signatures. School policy."
Sophia groaned.
Then the guard glanced around and muttered, almost to himself, "Course, if I happened to step out, and someone... peeked at the monitors? Not my problem."
Bingo.
Sophia immediately pointed at a screen and gasped. "Oh my god—someone just hopped the back fence! They didn't check in at all!"
"What? Who's—" The guard bolted up, spilling his coffee as he rushed out after her.
I dove for the controls, pulling up every camera angle near the field. Too much footage. No time. I jammed my thumb drive into the console and copied everything.
By the time Sophia and the guard returned—grumbling about "damn kids these days"—I was innocently studying a bulletin board. Sophia caught my eye; I gave the slightest nod.
Back in our dorm, we marathon-watched six hours of sped-up surveillance. Then—there. The same hooded figure, slinking toward the storage room from three different angles.
Ryan Evans.
Of course it was Ryan Evans. The guy had more second chances than a casino slot machine. Every teacher's nightmare, but his family's donations kept him untouchable.
Sophia's face went stone-cold. "We can't handle him alone. We need proof, then cops."
"But if he freaks and leaks the video—" My throat closed. This wasn't just embarrassing anymore. This could ruin me.
Sophia grabbed my hands. "We force Marcus to help. Text him. Say we'll go to the principal unless he cooperates."
Marcus exploded over the phone: "After everything I've done? You ungrateful little—"
I flinched, ready to backpedal, but Sophia snatched the phone.
"Cut the crap! If you hadn't dragged Evelyn into that storage room, we wouldn't be here!"
Silence. Then a defeated sigh. Marcus caved—his job was on the line.
Armed with his help, I messaged the blackmailer: [Ryan. I know it's you. Delete the video NOW or I'm calling the police.]
The reply was instant—a voice memo dripping with glee: "Do it, Evelyn! Let's race: your 911 call vs. me hitting 'post.'"
Attached: a screenshot of my video, already live on the school forum.
I couldn't breathe. He'd actually—
Tears blurred my screen as I begged. Ryan laughed. "Meet me. Maybe I'll take it down. If I feel like it."
"You're disgusting," I choked out.
"And you knew that." Click.
I frantically negotiated: post deleted first, then I'd meet. When the video vanished, I collapsed against Sophia.
Two minutes. Maybe nobody saw.
Sophia's jaw was set. "This meeting's our shot. We get evidence. We end this."
"Wait a second," she said, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "Doesn't Marcus seem... off to you?"
I frowned. "What do you mean?"
"Think about it. He's a teacher—he knows this school has cameras everywhere. But he never mentioned them, just kept pushing you to play along with the blackmailer. And after all this time?" She raised an eyebrow. "He's got nothing?"
A cold prickle ran down my spine.
Four days. That's how long we'd been scrambling for answers. Sophia and I had already pieced together clues, but Marcus? Radio silence. His whole "the blackmailer must be on campus" theory? Pure guesswork. No proof.
My stomach twisted as the realization hit.
"Either Marcus isn't actually helping us," I said slowly, "or he's in on it."
Sophia nodded grimly and tugged me toward the security office. "Speculating won't get us anywhere. Let's ID this creep first."
Inside, I played it cool—chatted with the bored security guard about the weather, the terrible cafeteria food, anything but cameras. Finally, I casually dropped, "Yeah, I think I lost my necklace during P.E. on the field. Been searching forever."
The guard took a long sip of his coffee, then smirked. "Kid, if you're angling for camera access, you'll need your advisor's approval and three faculty signatures. School policy."
Sophia groaned.
Then the guard glanced around and muttered, almost to himself, "Course, if I happened to step out, and someone... peeked at the monitors? Not my problem."
Bingo.
Sophia immediately pointed at a screen and gasped. "Oh my god—someone just hopped the back fence! They didn't check in at all!"
"What? Who's—" The guard bolted up, spilling his coffee as he rushed out after her.
I dove for the controls, pulling up every camera angle near the field. Too much footage. No time. I jammed my thumb drive into the console and copied everything.
By the time Sophia and the guard returned—grumbling about "damn kids these days"—I was innocently studying a bulletin board. Sophia caught my eye; I gave the slightest nod.
Back in our dorm, we marathon-watched six hours of sped-up surveillance. Then—there. The same hooded figure, slinking toward the storage room from three different angles.
Ryan Evans.
Of course it was Ryan Evans. The guy had more second chances than a casino slot machine. Every teacher's nightmare, but his family's donations kept him untouchable.
Sophia's face went stone-cold. "We can't handle him alone. We need proof, then cops."
"But if he freaks and leaks the video—" My throat closed. This wasn't just embarrassing anymore. This could ruin me.
Sophia grabbed my hands. "We force Marcus to help. Text him. Say we'll go to the principal unless he cooperates."
Marcus exploded over the phone: "After everything I've done? You ungrateful little—"
I flinched, ready to backpedal, but Sophia snatched the phone.
"Cut the crap! If you hadn't dragged Evelyn into that storage room, we wouldn't be here!"
Silence. Then a defeated sigh. Marcus caved—his job was on the line.
Armed with his help, I messaged the blackmailer: [Ryan. I know it's you. Delete the video NOW or I'm calling the police.]
The reply was instant—a voice memo dripping with glee: "Do it, Evelyn! Let's race: your 911 call vs. me hitting 'post.'"
Attached: a screenshot of my video, already live on the school forum.
I couldn't breathe. He'd actually—
Tears blurred my screen as I begged. Ryan laughed. "Meet me. Maybe I'll take it down. If I feel like it."
"You're disgusting," I choked out.
"And you knew that." Click.
I frantically negotiated: post deleted first, then I'd meet. When the video vanished, I collapsed against Sophia.
Two minutes. Maybe nobody saw.
Sophia's jaw was set. "This meeting's our shot. We get evidence. We end this."
End of The Masked Campus Belle Chapter 5. Continue reading Chapter 6 or return to The Masked Campus Belle book page.