Studying at Western University starts with a knife-forging competition

Chapter 107

Lin Yuan put his phone on the table, leaned back in his chair, and stared at the ceiling for a few seconds.

Matt came out of the kitchen carrying a glass of water and frowned when he saw his expression.

"What's wrong?"

"Emily went to get something," Lin Yuan said, "from Catherine's phone."

Matt's face paled for a moment. "What is it?"

"A video. Edited by Catherine, it contains footage of you apologizing."

Matt nearly dropped the water glass in his hand. He placed it on the coffee table, sat down on the sofa, and clasped his hands together, his knuckles white.

"Do you remember the original version of that conversation?" Lin Yuan asked.

"I remember," Matt's voice was a little dry. "She forced me to say it in the dorm that day. She said if I didn't cooperate and record this, she would publish that accusation. I repeatedly told her I didn't do it," and she said, "I know you didn't, but all you need to do is say sorry, and don't worry about anything else." I finally said, "I didn't know she recorded it."

Lin Yuan didn't press the matter. He stood up from his chair, walked to the window, and pulled back the curtains to look outside. It was completely dark, and the streetlights cast small, orange patches of light on the ground.

"Your father should know about this," Lin Yuan said. "The fact that he sent Emily to get it means he already has a plan."

Matt nodded without saying a word.

At 11 p.m., Emily sent a message: "Got it."

There are no extra words, just these three.

Lin Yuan showed the message to Matt. Matt let out a long breath, like someone who had been holding their breath underwater finally surfacing.

"We'll see about tomorrow," he said.

At 9 a.m. on Friday, Attorney Harris walked into a conference room on the eighth floor of an office building in downtown Greenville.

The meeting room wasn't large, with a long table and six chairs. The sky outside the window was overcast, the clouds hanging low, as if it were about to rain. Harris placed his briefcase on the table, pulled out a chair, and sat down, placing a thick folder in front of him.

He didn't have to wait long.

At 9:12, Catherine pushed open the door and came in.

Today she wore a black suit jacket over a white shirt, her hair was down, and she wore light makeup. Her expression was calm, even with a slight smile, like a career woman walking into a business negotiation.

"Miss Catherine Hall." Harris stood up and extended his hand.

Catherine shook his hand and sat down opposite him. She didn't bring a lawyer.

"I can talk to them myself," she said, her tone carrying a deliberately controlled composure.

Harris offered no comment. He sat back down, opened the folder, pulled out a few pages, and neatly arranged them on the table. He moved slowly, arranging each page with great care, as if setting up an exhibition.

"Before we begin, I need to confirm one thing," Harris looked up at Catherine. "You don't have legal representation today. Are you sure you want to conduct this conversation alone?"

"Sure."

"Very well." Harris placed his hands on the table, interlacing his fingers. "Now, on behalf of my client, Mr. Richard Wayne, and his family, I would like to convey a few things to you."

Catherine's smile remained on her face, but the light in her eyes shifted.

Harris didn't look at her expression. He pulled an envelope from the folder, placed it on the table, and pushed it towards Catherine with his index finger. The envelope was blank.

"This is the first thing."

Catherine glanced down at the envelope but didn't reach for it.

"What's inside?"

"An agreement," Harris said, "that you waive all charges against any member of the Wayne family, destroy all related documents and electronic records, and permanently prohibit yourself from contacting anyone in the Wayne family—including Matt Wayne, Emily Wayne—and Mr. Lin Yuan."

Catherine's smile faded slightly, but not completely.

"What if I sign it?"

"Mr. Wayne is willing to pay for a year's worth of psychological counseling for you," Harris said calmly, as if reciting a menu. "The fees are fifty percent higher than the market rate in the Greenville area. You can choose your own counselor."

Catherine looked at Harris, her lips twitching slightly, as if she was trying to suppress a laugh.

"Psychological counseling?" she repeated the word. "You think I need psychological counseling?"

"Mr. Wayne believes that everyone has the right to psychological support," Harris said, and without giving her a chance to interrupt, continued, "The second thing. If you refuse to sign this agreement," he pushed the folder in front of him to the middle of the table.

"The materials here will be delivered to the Greenville U.S. Attorney's Office at 8:00 a.m. tomorrow."

Catherine's gaze fell on the folder. Her fingers twitched under the table, but didn't extend.

"What kind of material is it?"

Harris tapped the folder lightly with his index finger.

"Over the past three years, we have compiled all your public records on social media, campus media, and academic activities. By comparing the timelines, we have reconstructed the entire process from when you approached that professor to when you made the accusation—including your comments on the anonymous evaluation system. The IP address has been confirmed as your account."

Catherine's expression changed for a moment. But she quickly adjusted her expression and put on that smile again.

"The IP address for the anonymous teacher evaluation system cannot be published. Where did you get it?"

"We didn't get it," Harris said. "The court can obtain it. We simply showed the judge the fact that the timing of these anonymous comments closely matches the timing of your allegations against the professor. The judge will make his own judgment."

Catherine did not speak.

Harris then pulled another document from the folder and placed it on top.

"There is another witness. The professor has agreed to testify. He will state that before you filed the charges, you approached him and asked him to write you a letter of recommendation. Only after he refused did you begin collecting the so-called 'evidence.'"

Catherine's smile finally vanished completely.

Harris didn't stop. He pulled a USB drive from the bottom of the folder, placed it on the table, and pushed it in front of Catherine.

"This is the third thing. You should know about this."

Catherine stared at the USB drive, her pupils contracting slightly.

"There's a video on your phone. It's a clip of Matt Wayne saying 'I'm sorry' and 'I shouldn't have done that.' We also got the original, unedited transcript of the conversation. In that transcript, Matt repeatedly says, 'I didn't do that,' and that you kept forcing him to say the words you wanted."

Catherine's lips moved slightly, but no sound came out.

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