Chapter 117: Chapter 117

"What do you mean expelled?" Craig couldn’t make sense of Louis’s words. His brain scrambled for logic, but nothing fit.

Louis let out a dry laugh, the kind that stung more than it amused. "Yeah," he said, mouth twisted, "Always clueless."

Craig didn’t flinch. Because, this was Louis, the guy he knew for jumping to conclusions, saying things like they were fact when he barely had the full story.

Craig told himself this had to be one of those times. It had to be.

Then he just closed his laptop with calm precision, body already moving. "Where is she?"

"Fuck off, man," Louis muttered, shaking his head.

But the words didn’t register, because Craig was already on his feet, texting her, moving across campus, scanning for any sign of her. He didn’t even know what if Louis was sure of what he had said, he just knew he needed to find her.

Sitting on the edge of the fountain near the main quad, hunched over slightly, hair falling forward like a curtain. From afar, she looked composed. But when he got closer, he could see the stiff set of her shoulders, the way her hands were curled too tightly in her lap.

He slowed down. "What’s up?"

She looked up sharply, like she hadn’t seen him coming. "Hey...um," Her voice faltered. "Hi."

Craig frowned. "What’s going on?"

Her face twisted, wary. "I—uh..."

Merlina couldn’t bring herself to say it out loud. Her throat tightened, and not just from the cold. She hated how her voice always betrayed her first. How the tears hovered just behind her eyes, waiting to take over.

Craig saw of all of it, how her chin quivered for a second. How her eyes shimmered with unshed tears she clearly didn’t want him to see. Whatever this was, it was hurting her more than she wanted to let on.

That moment he knew it was true. Louis hadn’t been lying.

He stepped closer, carefully. "Hey... what’s this about you being expelled?"

Merlina exhaled shakily, gaze dropping to the floor. "Yeah. The Dean called me. Told me himself."

Craig blinked. "Why didn’t you tell me?"

Merlina hesitated. Part of her still didn’t know how to say it out loud. And a small part of her, couldn’t bring herself to tell him because it had something to do with Conor.

With that moment she couldn’t take back. All the times she had accused his brother falsely. As much as she tried to brush it off, the guilt still clung to her.

"It just happened," she said, voice low. "I’m still... I’m still trying to process it."

Craig nodded slowly, like he understood. But after a second, something in him shifted.

His brow furrowed, he couldn’t help it. "But... you told Louis?"

The words came out sharper than he intended. He wasn’t trying to sound jealous. But it was there, tucked beneath the surface, tight in his chest, bitter on his tongue.

Merlina looked up, her eyes widened. "No! I didn’t tell Louis. He must have overheard me when I was...I was on the phone with my mom."

"Oh." He let out a slow breath, tension easing just slightly. "So what exactly did the Dean say? I don’t understand. Why would he expel you?

Merlina inhaled shakily, her voice flat with disbelief. "They’re calling it a voluntary withdrawal. But it’s not. It’s because of everything. My mom faking her death. Her involvement with a student. The attention. The media. My dad being in prison. And..." Her voice dipped. "What I did to Conor."

Craig’s jaw locked. "What about Conor?"

She glanced away, shame flickering across her face. "That night I slapped him, the video Lizzie recorded at Eclipse. The Dean...he’s calling it... assault. He said I was volatile. A pattern. Like something that comes with my family."

Craig exhaled, sharp and frustrated. Not at her, never at her. Just at everything. At how things never seemed to stop getting more complicated.

"You know what?" he said, straightening. "Just stay calm, okay? And wait for me here. I’ll go talk to the Dean."

Merlina looked up sharply. "Craig, no. You can’t fix this."

He moved in, close enough to feel the space between them pull tight. "I actually can."

Her brow furrowed. "How?"

"Just trust me," he said, reaching for her hand, his eyes searching hers, voice barely above a whisper. It wasn’t a demand, it was a plea, wrapped in all the things he knew, but didn’t want to say.

Merlina nodded, but there was hesitation in her eyes, fear still gripping her like a second skin. She didn’t fully believe things could be fixed.

Craig lingered for a second longer, then let go of her hand and stepped back.

As he turned and walked away, his mind was already racing. He wasn’t just going in blind, he had leverage.

His father, Charles Lesnar wasn’t just an alumnus of Belford College, he was one of its biggest benefactors. Buildings, scholarships, annual donations, there was a plaque somewhere with Lesnar etched in gold.

And while Craig had never cared much for that kind of influence, never used it, never needed to, this time was different.

This was about Merlina.

And if pulling a few strings could stop the school from making the biggest mistake of its life, then for once, he was going to use every damn connection his name carried.

So when he walked toward the Dean’s office, it wasn’t with arrogance. It was with purpose. Determined, clear and ready to do whatever it took.

The secretary looked up, startled, but Craig kept walking. His eyes were calm and cold. The way they got when he was past anger and somewhere deeper, where everything sharpened.

The Dean looked up from behind his desk, surprised but not entirely unexpectant. "Mr. Lesnar."

Craig shut the door behind him with a quiet finality. "We need to talk."

The Dean leaned back slowly. "Please have a sit."

But Craig didn’t. He stood, hands in the pockets of his coat, eyes sharp as they bore down on the Dean. "I’m here about Merlina Sanchez. You know exactly why."

The Dean clasped his hands together, leaning back with a calm Craig didn’t buy for a second.

"Mr. Lesnar," he said, voice smooth, almost patronizing. "I’m not sure I understand. What exactly does Miss Sanchez’s situation have to do with you?"

Craig exhaled, jaw tight as he bit down on his lower lip and blinked fast. The calm was thinning. He met the Dean’s smug expression with a cool one of his own.

"Well," he said, matching the tone, "I’m just a concerned student, who can’t stand by while a fellow student is quietly and unfairly forced out, especially under circumstances that are, at best, questionable, and at worst... illegal."

The Dean raised an eyebrow. "The decision was not made lightly, I assure you."

Craig took a step forward. "That’s bullshit. You’re expelling a student over a slap, taken out of context, on top of her mother’s actions and her father’s conviction? You don’t get to hold a young woman responsible for the sins of her family. That’s not just unethical. It’s a violation of her rights."

The Dean didn’t respond right away. Instead, he sighed, long and weary, and pinched the bridge of his nose like he’d been battling this for days.

His other hand drummed faintly against the desk, a quiet staccato of restraint. When he finally looked back at Craig, there was a flicker of frustration in his eyes, exhausted, but still trying to maintain the air of authority.

But Craig wasn’t done.

"If this goes public, if even a whisper of it hits the press, the exact attention you’re trying to avoid? It’s gonna blow up in your face a hundred times over."

Craig leaned in slightly, voice calm but laced with warning. "We’re talking lawsuits. Bias investigations. Abuse of power and discrimination. Suddenly every journalist on this side of the continent is digging into Belford’s disciplinary practices."

He let the next line hang deliberately. "I mean, I’d hate to think Belford’s values are slipping. Especially with all the... generous contributions my family’s made to uphold them."

The Dean didn’t speak, not even his expression changed much, but he shifted in his seat, one hand smoothing down the front of his tie, not because it needed fixing, but because he needed a second to think.

And Craig missed it, missed the weight behind that pause, the flicker of something like discomfort. Like being tugged in two different directions by the same last name.

"Now," Craig said, still calm, "I’m here to tell you, if you don’t reverse it, I’ll personally make sure the Board of Trustees sees every detail. Including the part where you tried to bury this as a ’voluntary exit.’"

The room was silent for a moment. Then the Dean tilted his head slightly. "You seem very invested in this case, Mr. Lesnar."

Craig didn’t blink. "She doesn’t deserve any of this treatment, and I’ll make sure you don’t get to make these decisions anymore."

He wasn’t going to beat around the bush, not now, not when it mattered. His voice was steady, sharp with conviction. He wanted the Dean to feel every word like a line being drawn.

But instead, the Dean gave a small, amused breath. Almost a laugh, but not quite. "If you’re looking for someone to blame, I suggest starting closer to home."

Craig frowned. "What does that mean?"

The Dean only smiled, slow and deliberate. "That’s not for me to say."

Craig took a step forward. "What does that mean?" He repeated, this time, his voice was lower.

Like part of him already knew. Like the thought had already crossed his mind, but he didn’t want to believe it.

The Dean leaned back in his chair and started to swing gently, like he knew the conversation was over. Like he’d just won.

"It means this decision wasn’t made in isolation," he said, calm now, almost bored. "And certainly not without...influence."

Craig stopped breathing for a second. His thoughts blurred, rushing toward one person, one possibility, one name he didn’t want to say out loud.

But the look in the Dean’s eyes didn’t leave much room for doubt.

So he stood there, frozen. The confidence he’d walked in with was gone now. His arguments. His threats. The way he thought he could turn this around. All of it slipped through his fingers.

He wasn’t even looking at Craig anymore. Instead, he picked up a folder from the edge of his desk, something unrelated and began flipping through it with calm, deliberate hands.

Like the matter had been settled. Like Craig was no longer worth his full attention and he was now enjoying the silence.

The kind of silence that said you’ve lost without ever saying it out loud.

And the Dean knew it.

He looked up at Craig again, as if just remembering he was still in the room. His gaze held the faintest edge of impatience, like he couldn’t quite understand why Craig hadn’t already left.

"If you’re really thinking about making a case," he said, voice calm, almost bored now, "I wouldn’t waste my time at the bottom of the ladder."

Then he leaned back just slightly in his chair, with a slow swing, added with a thin, knowing smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes, "Try the man who signs your tuition. If you’re lucky, he’ll take your call."