I climbed the last step and shook Dean Whitfield’s hand, and instead of moving toward my seat, I turned to the podium. He hesitated, then, reading something in my face, stepped aside and let me take the microphone. The auditorium hushed. Two thousand people, my professors, my classmates, my parents, and Bianca still standing in the third row, all waiting to see whether the accused girl would crumble or run.

“My sister says I cheated,” I said, my voice steady in the speakers. “So let’s talk about it, right here, in front of everyone.” Bianca’s triumphant expression flickered. This was not the reaction she had rehearsed. I reached beneath my gown and drew out the sealed white envelope. “In February, someone anonymously submitted fake evidence to the academic integrity office claiming I bought stolen exam answers. It nearly cost me my scholarship, my job, and my degree.” I held the envelope up so the light caught it. “The university spent three months investigating. What they found is inside here. And so is the name of the person who fabricated all of it.” I looked directly at my sister. “Would you like to tell them, Bianca, or should I?”