Chapter 29: The Rumor Was Planned

Sienna had worked two periods a week in the attendance office.

That was how she learned I had submitted medical leave.

She couldn't see my diagnosis.

Only that the absence was medically approved.

According to the school's investigation, she mentioned it in the After Hours group chat.

Greer already knew I was gone.

Then she happened to see me at the hospital.

Opportunity met intention.

Principal Warren showed us the recovered messages.

Sienna: “Scholarship princess is out for three days. Medical.”

Brooke: “Maybe she finally cracked.”

Greer: “Where is she?”

Sienna: “Doesn't say.”

Three days later, Greer posted the photograph.

I stared at the timeline.

In my first life, I had believed one unlucky photograph destroyed me.

Now I understood the truth.

The cruelty had existed before the picture.

The picture merely gave it a weapon.

Sienna was called to a disciplinary review.

She admitted looking at information she didn't need for her office-aide duties.

She admitted sharing my leave status.

She denied knowing Greer would start an abortion rumor.

I believed that was possible.

It also didn't make her choice harmless.

The school removed student access to attendance-office systems entirely.

Another policy changed because someone had treated my privacy like gossip.

I was tired of being the reason institutions discovered obvious weaknesses.

Still, I preferred change to excuses.

Sienna asked to apologize.

I agreed.

She cried before she finished her first sentence.

“I didn't think it would become this.”

I looked at her.

“What did you think would happen?”

She wiped her face.

“I don't know. We'd joke about you.”

“Why?”

“Because Greer hated you.”

“And that was enough?”

She had no answer.

That frightened me more than some elaborate motive.

People didn't always need deep hatred to participate in cruelty.

Sometimes belonging was enough.

“I'm sorry,” she whispered.

“I believe you're sorry now.”

She looked up hopefully.

I continued.

“Try being the person who stops the group next time, not the person who regrets it afterward.”

She nodded.

After she left, my mother said, “You sound forty.”

“I feel about ninety.”

She laughed.

We went for ice cream.

My doctor had cleared me for normal activity, and the incision was almost fully healed.

That small medical appointment mattered enormously.

The place where the story began had become ordinary again.

No rumor.

No shame.

Just a doctor telling me I was healing well.

Outside the clinic, my mother took a photograph of me.

I immediately raised an eyebrow.

“Seriously?”

She laughed.

“This one's allowed.”

I smiled for it.

That evening, Westbridge restored the student forum in a heavily moderated form.

Old posts connected to the harassment were archived for investigation but no longer publicly visible.

New rules appeared above the posting box.

No sharing private medical information.

No targeted sexual rumors.

No threats.

No posting images of students for harassment.

Reporting tools were visible.

I stared at the page.

Last time, that forum had been the place where I watched myself become a story other people invented.

Now it looked different.

I didn't know whether rules could prevent every future disaster.

But at least the school had stopped pretending nothing could be done.

A new thread appeared.

“Forum reopening thoughts?”

I closed the site.

I had homework.

An hour later, Greer sent a message through Dr. Patel.

She wanted permission to post a public correction.

I read the draft.

“I photographed Imogen Vale at a hospital and deliberately posted the image in a way that encouraged people to speculate about her medical care. I had no evidence that she had an abortion. I knew there were many reasons someone might visit OB-GYN. I posted it because I wanted to damage her reputation. Claims that Imogen fabricated evidence or initiated harassment against me were false. I apologize to her and to everyone I encouraged to participate.”

I stared at it.

My mother asked, “What do you think?”

“It's accurate.”

“Do you want her to post it?”

I thought of my first life.

I had written explanations until my eyes hurt.

Nobody believed me.

Now Greer was offering the correction I had once begged for.

“Yes.”

The statement went live the next morning.

Comments were disabled.

That was smart.

No spectacle.

No public punishment.

Just a correction attached to Greer's own name.

I read it once.

Then I closed the forum.

At lunch, nobody asked whether I'd had an abortion.

For the first time since my rebirth, the rumor felt dead.

Not buried beneath another rumor.

Not defeated by a louder scandal.

Corrected.

Documented.

Finished.

Then my phone rang.

Margaret Pierce.

“Imogen, there's something you should know before it reaches the press.”

I sighed.

Apparently one story was finished.

I saved the relevant records and left the originals untouched. By now, preserving evidence had become routine rather than frightening.

Another wasn't.

“What happened?”

“Elaine has been charged.”