Chapter 274: Anthony’s Guilt

"But," she said.

"But anything we had," he said, "is finished. Not because of what Anthony did. Not because of the party. Because of who we are now." He held her gaze. "I’m not the person who was with you then, and you’re not the person I would choose now. That’s not an accusation. That’s just true."

"Sean," she said. Her voice broke slightly on the word. "I love you. I know I have a strange way of showing it but I do. Please. I have nowhere else to. Anthony has made sure I don’t have. I can’t go to the police again and I don’t have anyone who will." She shook her head. "You were always the person I came to. You were always the one who."

"Sean."

The voice came from behind him.

He turned.

Olivia.

She was standing ten feet away, which meant she’d come from the direction of the arts building, which was where she’d told him she’d be this morning. They’d been texting since Wednesday about the Rebecca rumors, about what Sean knew, about the bruises and the withdrawn report.

She was looking at Rebecca with an expression that was controlled and direct and not particularly warm.

She crossed the distance between them and she looked at Rebecca’s hands holding Sean’s.

She didn’t say anything for a moment.

Then she slapped Rebecca.

Not hard enough to injure. Hard enough to communicate something completely unambiguous.

Rebecca’s head snapped to the side. She released Sean’s hands. Her own hand went to her face, to the uninjured side this time, and she looked at Olivia with an expression that cycled through shock and then something that tried to be indignation and didn’t quite get there.

Olivia stepped to Sean’s side and put her hand on his shoulder.

She looked at Rebecca directly.

"Stay away from my man," she said. Calm. Not aggressive. Just completely clear. "Whatever you had, whatever story you’re telling yourself about it, it’s done. He’s made that clear. I’m making it clearer." She held Rebecca’s gaze. "You don’t hold his hands. You don’t find him on campus. You don’t. Again."

Rebecca looked at Sean.

Sean looked at her.

He felt the pity still. He wasn’t going to pretend he didn’t feel it. But he also felt the settled quality of something that had been unresolved and had just resolved itself without requiring any decision from him. Olivia had simply arrived and made the geometry of the situation obvious.

"Whatever Anthony threatened you with," he said, "it won’t matter soon. He’s going to have problems of his own to manage."

He said it without drama. Not a promise. Not a threat. Just a fact he was making happen.

Rebecca looked at him for a long moment.

The managed composure was fully gone now. What was left was something more honest and more tired, the specific exhaustion of someone who had run out of performances and was just standing in the aftermath of a lot of bad decisions.

"Sean," she said. The quiet version. Not the performing version.

"Go home Rebecca," he said. Not unkindly. "Get somewhere safe and stay there. This isn’t over for Anthony."

She held his gaze for another moment.

Then she walked away.

Quickly. Without looking back.

Sean watched her go.

Olivia’s hand was still on his shoulder. He covered it with his.

"You were texting me," she said. Not an accusation. Just naming what had happened.

"I was," he said.

"You said your ex was approaching you," she said.

"Yes," he said.

"And that it was connected to something that had been coming for a while," she said.

"Yes," he said.

She looked at where Rebecca had gone, the humanities building door she’d disappeared through, and then back at him with the specific attention she gave things that actually mattered to her.

"The bruise," she said.

"Yes," he said.

"Anthony," she said.

"Yes," he said.

Olivia was quiet for a moment. Then she said, "Are you okay."

Sean thought about the actual answer. "I’m not what I was when this started," he said. "The original version of all of this. That person would have." He paused. "I’m not that person anymore."

"No," said Olivia. "You’re not."

She took her hand from his shoulder and took his hand instead, the proper version.

They walked.

He texted Max while they walked.

Anthony Ruiz’s financial situation. The credit cycling. Is there anything in that that connects to fraudulent activity beyond personal mismanagement.

Max replied in four minutes. Yes. He’s been using a shared card in your names from back when you were at the same apartment before the semester. He took out two purchases in the last month you didn’t authorise. One for $340, one for $890. Total $1,230.

Sean stopped walking.

’Shared card.’ He hadn’t had a shared card with Anthony in this life. That meant Max had found something specific.

Wait, he typed. Shared card as in he added himself to an account that wasn’t his?

He used your information to open a supplementary card and made two purchases. It’s clean fraud. Credit agency documentation exists. If you report it formally he can be charged for it and the other things the prosecutor needs become contextually stronger.

Sean looked at that message for a long moment.

Not enough to put him away for significant time on its own. But enough. Combined with the withdrawn police report, the noise complaints, the pattern documentation Max was building. Combined with a prosecutor who was presented with all of it simultaneously by someone who had the resources to ensure it was presented properly.

"Max," said Olivia, looking at his phone over his shoulder.

"Yes," said Sean.

"He’s been doing this since you told him about the rumors," she said. "Since Tuesday."

"He said he wanted to build it himself," said Sean. "No charge."

Olivia looked at the phone. Then at the campus around them.

"How much is it going to cost to make this happen," she said.

"The legal fees," said Sean. "And a prosecutor who takes the full picture seriously." He paused. "And probably a private attorney who can walk it to the right desk rather than waiting for it to go through standard channels."