Chapter 18

“I guess you should stay away from Lydia.” Oliver said. 
“You should mind your own business.” I said to him, 
“She spies on you. She is totally weird.” He said, raising an eyebrow. 
“Don't talk bad about her. You don't even know her.” I said. 
“She goes into your house and checks your room.” He said, showing his phone. 
“Do you stalk her?” I asked. 
“I care about you.” He said. 
“My shift is over. Finally I can get rid of you.” I said, moving away. 
I started to like Lydia. I guess we are dating now. But it's not official now. It all started when she started to help me in this case. Also she is in Blue Shark University. She told me about the university. 
I walked through the empty school gates, my footsteps echoing in the silence. The night air was cold, sending a chill down my spine. The place felt different at this hour—quiet, almost eerie.
I wasn’t supposed to be here. But I needed that footage.
Caleb had mentioned something earlier—something about Stiles talking to someone in the chemistry room before he died. If that was true, then maybe the security cameras caught it. Maybe I could find out who he was with.
I adjusted my hoodie and walked toward the building. The security office was on the second floor. If I was lucky, no one would be around. If I wasn’t… well, I’d figure it out.
I just needed to see that footage.
I clicked through the security footage, my fingers slightly shaky. The screen flickered as I fast-forwarded through hours of nothing—empty hallways, classrooms, janitors cleaning. Then, finally, something.
A video from last year.
Stiles stood in the chemistry room, his expression tense. He wasn’t alone. A girl was with him—Lydia.
I leaned closer.
The footage had no sound, but their body language was clear. They were arguing. Stiles looked frustrated, his hands moving as if he was explaining something. Lydia, on the other hand, looked defensive. She crossed her arms, shaking her head.
I rewound and watched carefully.
There were papers on the desk between them. Admission forms? Stiles picked one up, pointing at it, his face serious. Lydia snatched it back, her expression unreadable.
Then it hit me.
Lydia had gotten into the university through fraud. Someone—some insider—had helped her get in. And she had fake documents to prove it.
Stiles must have found out. He was warning her, telling her not to do it. But Lydia didn’t care. She refused to listen.
I sat back in my chair, my mind racing.
Was this connected to his death? Or was it just another secret buried in this place?
Is that why Stiles was warning her? Lydia. Not to get involved in these things. Now Lydia is also a suspect. I should probably check on her. I must visit her the next day as soon as possible.  
I walked home and was sad. The girl I started to like is a suspect. I didn't know that she cheated to get into the University. I closed my eyes. 
Lydia’s house was quiet. Too quiet.
I had checked—she wasn’t home. That gave me time.
I moved quickly through the hallway, straight to her bedroom. The place was neat, almost too perfect. But I wasn’t here to admire it. I needed proof.
I started searching. Drawers, closets, under the bed. And then—I found them.
Stacked beneath some old books were admission papers. The same ones from the footage. Fake certificates, forged documents. Proof that Lydia had cheated her way in.
But that wasn’t all.
In the bottom drawer of her desk, half-buried under more papers, was a small recorder.
My breath caught.
I pressed play.
The voice was shaky but clear. Stiles.
“Lydia, you can’t do this. This is fraud! If someone finds out—”
“Shut up, Stiles,” Lydia snapped. “You’re overreacting.”
More arguing. More tension. Then Stiles’ voice changed—it was weaker, slurred.
“What… what did you do?”
“You should’ve stayed out of this.”
A thud. A muffled groan. And then silence.
I gripped the recorder tighter.
Lydia had drugged him. Beaten him. And then—she had cut his wrist. His left wrist.
The police thought it was suicide. But it wasn’t. Lydia made sure of that.
And she had hidden this recorder to erase the truth.
My heart pounded as I stared at it.
I had proof now. But what was I going to do with it?
I walked home. Now I had proof that Lydia had killed him. I must collect all the evidence and hand it over. This case must be solved. Everyone must know the truth. I kept all the papers and evidence on my bed. 
[Lydia] : Hey! Can you come? I am getting bored. 
[Me] : Where?
[Lydia] : I will text you later. 
I must check on her. To ask her if I am right. I walked towards my car and opened the door. I started the engine and went to the place where Lydia told me to come. I was all alone. The under-construction building stood in the dim moonlight, half-built walls casting long shadows. The place smelled of cement and dust, and the silence felt heavy. I gripped the recorder in my pocket as I took a step forward.
Lydia was already there, waiting.
She tilted her head, a smirk playing on her lips. “What did you find, Liam?”
I clenched my jaw. “What you did to Stiles.”
Her expression didn’t change.
“You killed him, didn’t you?” I said, my voice firm.
She let out a soft chuckle. “You’re smart, aren’t you?” Her gaze darkened. “Too smart for your own good.”
I didn’t back down. “I have proof, Lydia. The forged admissions, the recorder—everything. It’s over.”
Her smirk faded, replaced by something more dangerous. “Over?” She took a slow step toward me. “Oh, Liam… it’s far from over.”
Before I could react, she moved. Fast. A sharp pain shot through my side, and my vision blurred. My knees buckled.
The last thing I saw was Lydia’s cold, satisfied smile before everything went dark.
When I woke up, my head throbbed. My arms ached. I tried to move—my wrists were tied. The rough rope dug into my skin.
Lydia stood in front of me, arms crossed. “Did you sleep well?”
I tried to speak, but my throat felt dry.
She crouched in front of me, eyes gleaming. “I gave you something,” she said casually. “A little drug to keep you quiet.”
My heart pounded.
“I can’t believe you woke up, honestly.” She sighed. “Doesn’t matter. It’ll take effect soon. You’ll be dead in a few minutes.”
Panic shot through me. I struggled against the ropes, but she only laughed. Then, without warning—
She stabbed me.
The pain was instant, sharp, spreading like fire through my body. I gasped, my vision blurring again.
Then—sirens.
Lydia’s head snapped up. The flashing red and blue lights reflected off the unfinished walls.
She cursed under her breath, then turned to me one last time.
“Well, this was fun,” she said before kicking over a few crates, scattering evidence. Then, without hesitation, she ran.
The sirens got louder. The lights grew brighter.
And then—darkness again.
When I opened my eyes, everything was burning.
Flames roared around me, thick smoke filling the air, making it hard to breathe. The heat pressed against my skin, my vision hazy from the pain.
Then, through the chaos, I heard a voice.
Someone was yelling my name.
It was familiar. Desperate.
Oliver.
I struggled to move, my wrists still raw from the ropes. I yanked at them, forcing my numb fingers to work. The second they came loose, I tried to stand—only to stumble forward. My legs barely held me up.
Blood. It was everywhere. My hands. The floor. My clothes.
I took a step, dizziness threatening to pull me down again. Then I saw him.
Oliver.
He wasn’t hesitating. He was running straight toward me, his face filled with something I couldn’t understand. And then—
He jumped into the fire.
I wanted to say something, to stop him, but the words never came.
Before I could react, his arms were around me, dragging me forward. The flames blurred around us as he pulled me through the wreckage, out into the open air.
The moment we reached safety, everything hit me at once. The sirens. The shouting. The flashing lights.
People were panicking. Voices rang in my ears.
“Don’t close your eyes!”
But I couldn’t hold on any longer.
Everything faded to black.