Lilly's POV
I stood under the lanterns in Tower Garden, twisting my fingers together, my breath fogging slightly in the cooling evening air. The message from Luca still echoed in my mind:
> "Meet me. 7PM. Don't ask questions."
I almost hadn't come. My mind was tired. My heart, bruised. And ever since the Legacy Grant hearing, I'd been walking on eggshells—waiting for something to go wrong again. For someone to yank the rug out from under me.
Because that's what always happened.
But when Luca stepped out from beneath the arch, hands tucked into his coat pockets, jaw set with that stormy expression he wore when he was about to burn something down—something told me this time might be different.
"Thanks for coming," he said, voice quiet but steady.
"You sounded… serious."
"I am."
He motioned to the bench under the old stone arch. We sat.
Then he looked at me—really looked.
"I know who tried to take you down."
I didn't breathe. Just stared.
"Samantha?" I guessed.
"Yes," he said. "But she wasn't working alone. She was following orders."
"From who?"
"A trustee. One of my father's close associates—Gregory Marston. He's been on the board for years. He hated the idea of a cleaner's daughter getting the Legacy Grant. Thought it 'weakened tradition.' So he used Samantha to fabricate a complaint. Before the lab incident even happened."
My stomach turned. "So it was planned… all of it."
He nodded. "The fake complaint. The timing. Even the anonymous notes. He made sure to protect himself. Kept her hands dirty, not his. But I got the digital footprint. He slipped. And I made sure the board saw it."
"And?" I asked, barely breathing.
"He resigned this morning," Luca said. "Silently. Samantha's been removed from her assistant role and is under academic suspension. Ravel issued a public statement this afternoon—said the university deeply regrets the handling of your case."
I felt my pulse racing. "Wait. What?"
Luca reached into his coat pocket and handed me a folded paper.
I opened it with trembling hands.
To: Lilly Lorenzo
This letter serves as confirmation that all disciplinary actions and suspensions on your academic record have been fully withdrawn. Your reinstatement is complete and permanent. In addition, the university is issuing a formal apology to be made public at next week's Board Assembly...
I couldn't read the rest. The words swam. Blurred.
Luca was still speaking, but all I could hear was:
It's over.
It was over.
---
"I wanted to tell you in person," Luca said, more gently now. "I didn't want you to hear it in some email. You deserved more than that."
My eyes met his. "Why are you doing all this?"
He hesitated. Then looked away.
"Because I saw what they were willing to do to someone who didn't have power. And I couldn't… I couldn't let them win."
"But you're one of them, Luca," I said quietly. "You could've stood back and stayed safe."
He turned back to me slowly. "Yeah. But ever since I met you, safe doesn't feel like enough."
Silence.
Just the wind rustling the garden leaves.
I didn't know what to say to that. I wasn't ready. Not for this kind of honesty. Not from him. But something inside me was warm, anchored. Grateful.
Seen.
I closed my eyes. For once, not out of shame—but relief.
---
Later that night, I walked home differently. Head higher. Steps steadier.
I passed by two students who whispered—not in mockery—but surprise. I heard one of them say my name like it meant something.
I got to our apartment, opened the door, and found my mum waiting in the kitchen, holding my favorite old blanket like she was worried again.
When I told her everything—Marston, the lies, the apology, the chance to start fresh—she sank into the chair, held her chest, and whispered, "Thank you, God."
Liam burst from the bedroom in his pajamas and did a dance right there in the kitchen. He didn't understand all of it, but he could feel the happiness in the room.
And when I hugged them both that night, tighter than ever before, I whispered into their shoulders:
"I made it back."
---
The next morning
The gates of Ravenholt University stood tall ahead of me. But they didn't look like a wall anymore.
They looked like an open door.
This time, there were no stares of pity. No whispers of scandal. Just nods. Some respectful glances. Even a few soft smiles.
The university had changed—but so had I.
I was no longer just a cleaner. Or a scholarship girl. Or even a scandal.
I was Lilly Lorenzo.
And I was here to stay.