CHAPTER NINETEEN — THE FALL OF VERENA MADDOX
Here is your expanded, richer, darker,
The first scream didn't shock anyone.
But the second one did—because it sounded less human, more like the broken howl of someone watching their entire universe collapse in real time.
Verena Maddox's voice tore through the disciplinary hall, bouncing against marble pillars and cold tiled floors. Her hair was a tangled mess, mascara streaked down her cheeks like war paint, and her once-perfect princess composure had dissolved into raw, trembling panic.
She wasn't the glamorous Maddox heir anymore.
She was prey.
Cornered. Cornered by truth, by fear, by a disaster she never imagined could spiral this far.
Her hands shook uncontrollably as she pointed at the board members, the officials, the silent audience hungry for drama.
"I—I wasn't the one who set the study room on fire!" she choked out. "Yes! Yes, I threw the tear gas—I admit that! But it was only to scare her. Just a lesson! A tiny lesson! I never meant to kill anyone. Why would I burn down the place?"
Her voice cracked on the last word.
It wasn't a question anyone intended to answer.
In fact, no one moved.
No one blinked.
Their cold, heavy silence pressed on her chest like a crushing weight.
A murmur rippled across the hall—low at first, then rising like the hum of a swarm. Students, administrators, a few spoiled children of senators and CEOs—everyone who mattered, or who wanted to matter, was present.
And every single pair of eyes told her the same thing:
Guilty. Dangerous. Disgraced.
Her breathing hitched—sharp, uneven, spiraling into panic.
"No, no, no," she whispered, then screamed, "NO! It wasn't me! It was Crystal!"
A wave of disbelief flowed through the hall.
"Crystal must have known my plan—don't you see? She turned it around on me!" Verena sobbed. "She did it herself! She's manipulating all of you!"
Her shrill voice bounced off stone.
Silence followed.
Then—
A scoff.
A soft, mocking laugh.
A cynical shake of the head.
To them, she sounded unhinged—desperate, defeated, and delusional.
Crystal? The fragile, soft-spoken girl who avoided trouble, who cried during sad movies, who tutors juniors for free?
Crystal Whitman… dangerous?
She must have lost her mind and sanity.
Crystal Whitman… capable of burning down a study room with herself inside?
Verena is indeed insane.
Ridiculous.
Someone whispered, "She's lost it."
Another murmured, "She's lying."
A third hissed, "Typical Maddox drama."
A forth screamed, "She's insane and trying to frame an innocent to save face. What a bitch"
Verena's stomach dropped. Her ears buzzed. Her vision blurred at the edges.
Her mind began to spiral.
No… this isn't happening. This can't be happening. I didn't burn anything. I didn't. I didn't! Why won't they listen? Why won't anyone listen?
Then—
A figure stepped forward.
Ethan Thatcher.
His jaw was tight. His shoulders stiff. His eyes—icy and glinting with restrained fury—were locked on Verena with a focus that made her soul shrivel.
Without warning—
SLAP!
A sharp, explosive sound cut the air like a whip.
Verena stumbled. The world tilted. Her cheek burned.
Gasps erupted across the room, but no one dared interfere. Ethan had never been the type to lash out… but today, patience had limits.
His voice was low, cold, deadly.
"Don't ever speak her name again."
Verena froze.
Ethan stepped closer—too close. His presence swallowed her air.
"And listen carefully," he continued, his words dripping with ice. "You're going to withdraw from this school. Today. Now. If you try to stay, I will personally make sure your family falls so hard the society pages won't even bother reporting your downfall."
Her knees gave out. She collapsed, sobbing.
"E-Ethan… please. I swear I'm innocent. Crystal is the real—"
"Enough."
Another voice slid in, cutting through the chaos like a blade.
Liam Harrington.
He stood tall, hands clasped behind him, expression unreadable but undeniably dangerous. A man used to making decisions that altered lives—and ending careers without blinking.
"I tried to stay out of this," Liam said, tone calm but lethal, "because you were distantly associated with the Thatchers. But you've become an eyesore."
He paused, letting the weight of his words settle.
"Leave. Now. If you are still within this school by the end of today, I can assure you—no institution in this country will touch you. Harrington is my surname. I do not give warnings twice."
The air shifted.
Students straightened.
Even the officials looked uneasy.
Verena felt something inside her crack. Slowly. Painfully. Irreversibly.
Both heirs—both powerful houses—had condemned her.
There was no redemption after this.
No apology strong enough.
No truth loud enough.
No lifeline left.
The disciplinary officers signaled the guards.
Two uniformed men stepped forward, their faces blank, professional, merciless. They grabbed her arms—firm grip, no space for struggle.
"No! Let go of me! I'm innocent—Crystal did this! She did this! I'm not lying! PLEASE!" Verena screamed.
But her voice no longer mattered.
Her words were noise.
Her reputation was ash.
Her legacy—ruined.
They dragged her out of the hall…
Down the long, echoing corridor…
Past crowds gathering with phones held high…
Past whispers and chuckles…
Past judgmental stares and gleeful spectators…
Down the university steps…
Across the courtyard she once strutted across with pride…
And out through the massive iron gates.
Where she once walked like royalty, she was now dragged like a criminal.
Students filmed everything.
Some laughed as she kicked and screamed.
Others looked away, pity threading their expressions—but not enough to intervene.
No one helped.
No one dared.
By evening, the scandal erupted online like a bomb.
#VerenaMaddoxScandal
#StudyRoomFire
#EliteCorruption
#TearGasAttack
#MaddoxDisgrace
CCTV footage leaked—angles she'd never seen. Photos of her screaming. Videos of Ethan slapping her. Clips of Liam's icy warning speech.
Every detail became content.
Gossip threads. Anonymous confessions. Rumors. Edits. Memes.
Her name trended nationwide, then internationally.
Her parents' phones blew up.
Stockholders panicked.
Journalists swarmed the Maddox residence.
Sponsors withdrew deals.
Old scandals resurfaced.
Her downfall was not just public.
It was global.
The Maddox name became digital blood in the water—and the world smelled it.
---
And far away from the chaos…
In the quiet serenity of her dorm room…
Crystal sat cross-legged on her bed, a soft lamp illuminating her face. Her expression was calm. Serene. Almost angelic.
Except for the smile.
A small, slow, sinister smile curled at the corner of her lips as she scrolled through the headlines.
Her eyes gleamed—not with guilt, but with satisfaction.
Her plan had worked.
Perfectly.
Crystal closed her phone, leaned back against her pillows, and whispered into the silence—
"Checkmate."
And for the first time in a long time…
…she allowed herself to smile