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Chapter 640
Chapter 640:
Isolde turned her back on Belle. She faced the head judge and the crowd.
“I refuse any form of private settlement. I refuse the withdrawal,” Isolde declared, her voice ringing with absolute, unyielding authority.
She leveled a finger at the head judge.
“You have publicly accused a minor of academic fraud on the basis of a manipulated video,” Isolde stated coldly. “If you want to disqualify her, you will prove it. Right here. Right now p>
The head judge frowned, flustered. “Ma’am, the video p>
“The video is circumstantial garbage,” Isolde interrupted, her voice cracking like a whip. “I demand a physical audit. I demand that you retrieve the original optical mark recognition sheets for both Effie Carson and Kaiden Lancaster p>
Her eyes swept across the silent, staring crowd.
“Bring the grading machine out here,” Isolde commanded, her voice rising to the high ceilings. “Grade their exams live, on that stage, in front of every single person in this room p>
A collective gasp sucked the air from the plaza.
It was an extraordinary demand. A public execution. If Effie had cheated — or if she had simply scored poorly — the humiliation would be absolute and permanent.
ѕ𝗁𝖺𝗋𝘦 yo𝗎𝗿 𝘁𝗁о𝘂𝘨𝗵𝘁s 𝗼ո ѕ.c𝗼𝗆
Cheryl Juarez leaned over the podium, a vicious, triumphant cackle escaping her lips. “Do it!” Cheryl screamed at the judge. “Let the whole world see how stupid that little brat really is! Grade them right now p>
Belle’s heart skipped a beat. A cold spike of panic hit her chest. Kaiden was supposed to be a genius — but she knew Cheryl had been doing his homework for months. Still, she reasoned, Kaiden had the Columbia tutor. Effie was just a strange, quiet child. Kaiden had to score higher.
Trapped between the public demand and Cheryl’s screaming, the head judge had no choice. He nodded to his assistants.
“Bring the scanner to the stage,” he ordered. “And pull the sealed answer sheets from the vault p>
Isolde turned and walked back to Effie. She knelt down on the hard concrete floor, placed both hands firmly on her daughter’s small shoulders, and looked directly into her terrified eyes.
“Listen to me, Effie,” Isolde said, her voice dropping to a fierce, protective whisper. “You have nothing to be afraid of. You are brilliant. You are a star. Let them turn on the lights, and show these pathetic fools exactly how bright you burn p>
Effie looked into her mother’s unwavering eyes. The panic in her small chest slowly receded, replaced by a tiny, solid core of determination. She took a deep breath and nodded.
Isolde stood up. She crossed her arms and turned to face the stage.
The guillotine was being assembled.
Two competition officials wheeled a heavy, industrial-grade optical mark recognition scanner to the center of the main stage. They connected it to the audio-visual system, routing the output directly to the massive LED screen above.
A third official jogged onto the stage carrying a locked, transparent lockbox. Inside were the sealed, tamper-proof envelopes containing the answer sheets.