Chapter 51: My Life is Normal…Right?

It had been a week since Eleanor's fall. A week since Cassandra's empire crumbled beneath my feet. A week since the system evolved, rewarding me for what was nothing short of a complete takeover.

For the first time in what felt like forever, John and I were back to doing what normal 15-year-olds were supposed to do—attend high school. It was almost surreal. Sitting in class, listening to a lecture about the American Revolution while knowing I had just led a revolution of my own against one of the most dangerous figures in the country. My mind wasn't on the textbooks or the teacher's monotone voice—it was on the information Eleanor left me. The truth about David Lawrence.

"Yo, you spacing out again?" John whispered beside me, kicking my foot under the desk.

"I'm fine," I replied, though my tone didn't match the words.

John sighed, leaning back in his chair. "You know, when we first got back, I actually thought we could have some peace. Just chill, flirt with some girls, maybe even play some basketball like old times." He paused. "But I know that look on your face. You're already planning the next move, aren't you?"

I didn't respond. I didn't have to.

John shook his head. "Figured as much. So, what's next? David?"

"Not yet," I said, keeping my voice low. "We don't have enough information. He's the type of guy who doesn't make a move until he's sure he'll win. If we go after him now, we're walking into his trap, not the other way around."

John exhaled sharply. "So what, we just sit around and pretend to be regular high school kids?"

I turned to face him, my lips curling into a slight smirk. "Exactly."

Because I knew one thing for certain—life wouldn't let us stay normal for long.

And I was right.

The first sign of trouble came during lunch.

John and I were sitting at our usual spot in the cafeteria, trying to blend in, when I noticed something strange. People were whispering. Staring.

At first, I thought it was just paranoia. But then, a junior I barely knew approached our table, phone in hand, his expression somewhere between curiosity and fear.

"Uh… William, right?" the kid asked hesitantly.

I met his gaze. "Yeah?"

He hesitated, then turned his phone around, showing me the screen. "Is this… you?"

I took the phone, and the moment I saw the video, my blood ran cold.

It was a security camera recording—grainy, but clear enough to see what was happening. It showed me. Standing in the middle of a burning warehouse, surrounded by armed men. A moment later, the camera caught a glimpse of John at my side. The footage cut just before the gunfire started.

Shit.

John peered over my shoulder. "Well, that's not great."

Understatement of the century.

"Where did you get this?" I asked the kid.

He swallowed nervously. "It's all over the internet. Some anonymous account uploaded it last night. People are saying you're part of some underground crime war."

Of course. Eleanor was dead. Cassandra was gone. But David? He was still out there. And this had his fingerprints all over it.

John leaned in, whispering, "This is bad, Will."

No. This was worse than bad. This was a declaration of war.

By the time lunch was over, I already knew what was coming next.

"William Right, please report to the dean's office immediately."

As I walked through the halls, I could feel the stares drilling into my back. The whispers followed me like shadows. By the time I stepped into the office, I already had my explanation ready.

Principal Caldwell, a middle-aged man with graying hair and sharp eyes, folded his hands on the desk as he studied me. "William, I assume you know why you're here?"

I nodded. "The video."

He exhaled, his expression unreadable. "Do you have anything to say about it?"

I kept my face neutral. "It's fake."

Caldwell raised an eyebrow. "Fake?"

"Deepfake technology is getting pretty advanced these days," I said smoothly. "Anyone can make a video like that. Just edit my face onto someone else's body, add some grainy footage, and suddenly I'm a criminal. If you look into it, I'm sure you'll find that whoever posted it can't provide the original source."

He studied me for a long moment, then sighed. "I figured you'd say something like that."

I tilted my head. "Do you believe me?"

"It doesn't matter what I believe," he said. "What matters is that law enforcement has already taken an interest. You're lucky they haven't barged in here yet."

Of course they have. That's exactly what David wants—to force me into a situation where I have to fight on two fronts: the government and him.

"What happens now?" I asked.

Caldwell leaned back. "For now, nothing. The school board doesn't want to get involved unless there's proof. But William…" He looked at me with something that almost resembled concern. "I've been doing this job for a long time. I know when a student is hiding something. Whatever you're involved in… be careful."

I met his gaze, offering the faintest of smiles. "Always."

As I stepped out of the principal's office, relief barely had time to settle in before I saw him.

My father.

Jason Right stood in the hallway, arms crossed, his usual composed demeanor now replaced with something much colder. His sharp eyes, the same ones I inherited, locked onto me with an intensity that made it clear—he wasn't here for a casual chat.

And beside him? Principal Caldwell, standing with a look that could only mean one thing.

I wasn't done here.

"William," my father's voice was steady, but I could hear the edge underneath. "Come inside."

There was no use in resisting. I exhaled, turned on my heel, and stepped back into the principal's office. Caldwell followed, shutting the door behind us. The room suddenly felt smaller, more suffocating.

My father didn't sit. He just stood there, studying me like I was a puzzle he couldn't quite solve.

"I got a call this morning," he started. "Someone sent me a video. That video."

Of course. Whoever was behind this wasn't just trying to ruin my reputation at school. They were making sure it reached the people closest to me.

"What do you have to say for yourself?" he asked.

I shrugged. "It's fake."

Caldwell sighed, rubbing his temples. My father, however, didn't react. His gaze remained locked onto me, waiting for something more.

"You expect me to believe that?" he finally said.

I met his eyes. "It's the truth."

"Then tell me," he said, his voice eerily calm. "Why are people whispering your name in school hallways? Why is your best friend involved? Why is law enforcement suddenly taking an interest in a fifteen-year-old boy?"

Silence.

I had an answer ready. A prepared lie. But the problem was, my father wasn't like Caldwell. He wouldn't just take my words at face value and move on. He was a man who built a career on reading people, dissecting their actions, and finding the smallest inconsistencies in their stories. If I said something even slightly off, he'd notice.

I had to give him something.

Something close enough to the truth but still distant enough to keep him away from the real problem.

So I sighed, leaned back in my chair, and said, "I've made enemies."

Caldwell's brows furrowed. My father's expression didn't change. "Enemies," he repeated.

"Yeah," I continued, choosing my words carefully. "I got caught up in something I shouldn't have. Someone didn't like it. Now they're trying to ruin my life."

Caldwell leaned forward. "Caught up in what exactly?"

I exhaled through my nose. "I don't know. Maybe I pissed off some rich kid. Maybe someone saw me talking to the wrong person. I don't have an exact answer."

A half-truth. Just enough to throw them off while keeping the real story buried.

Caldwell frowned but didn't push further. My father, however, didn't break eye contact. He was waiting. Testing me.

Then, after what felt like an eternity, he finally spoke.

"I've always told you to be careful about the people you associate with," he said. "This isn't just some schoolyard fight, William. If someone is powerful enough to leak footage like this, they can do more than just spread rumors. They can destroy lives."

He was warning me.

Caldwell sighed, leaning back in his chair. "Look, William, you're a smart kid. But this is serious. If law enforcement comes knocking, I won't be able to protect you. Your father won't be able to protect you. So whatever is going on—stop it before it's too late."

I nodded. "I understand."

Another lie.

Because this wasn't something I could just walk away from.

And whoever was behind this?

They were about to find out exactly what happens when you try to corner me.

John was waiting outside. His arms were crossed, but his usual smirk was gone. Instead, there was something else. Worry.

"We need to talk," he said.

I nodded, and we walked through the empty hallway, heading toward the back of the school where no one would hear us.

John exhaled sharply before speaking. "William, this isn't just some minor problem anymore. Whoever did this… they're not just trying to mess with your school life. They're trying to break you. I don't think it's just some random enemy. This is personal."

I already knew that.

"I have a feeling this isn't the last move they'll make," John continued. "Whoever's behind this, they're playing for keeps. And if we don't handle this the right way, they might actually succeed."

I glanced at him. "You think I don't know that?"

John shook his head. "That's not what I'm saying. What I am saying is… I need to know if you're thinking straight. I've seen you plan, I've seen you manipulate people like they're chess pieces, but this? This is different. This is you on the board now. If you let anger control your next move, you're going to lose."

I exhaled. He wasn't wrong.

I had spent so much time being ten steps ahead of everyone else, making sure they never saw the full picture. But now, someone had flipped the game board and put me under the spotlight.

I needed to stay sharp.

I turned to John. "That's why I need you with me."

John gave a small smirk. "Always."

I reached into my pocket, pulling out my phone.

There was only one person I could call now. Someone who knew how to operate from the shadows. Someone who could give me the real answers I needed.

I tapped the screen and brought the phone to my ear.

"Edward," I said, my voice calm but firm. "We have a problem."