Chapter 3

I needed to talk to someone.

Chris Vance was my first call. We'd been friends since our own P.T.U. days. Now he was a PR whiz.

"Evie! What's up? You sound... stressed."

We met at a quiet Italian place near campus that evening.

I laid it all out. The messages, the forum, the photo. Mark Jenkins' application.

Chris listened, his expression hardening.

"The Citadel," he said, his voice tight. "I know that cesspool. It's full of misogynistic trolls."

He ran a hand through his hair.

"His name is Mark Jenkins? An MBA student here?"

I nodded, pushing my uneaten pasta around my plate.

"This is more than just a random jerk, Evie. This is calculated."

Chris's older sister, Sarah, had been a rising star in software engineering.

A targeted online smear campaign, full of lies about her competence and personal life, had nearly destroyed her career. She'd battled severe depression for years.

Chris never forgot.

"We need to be smart about this," he said. "He's applying to Pioneer? And you're a judge?"

"Lead investor rep, actually," I corrected. "Final say."

Chris's eyes narrowed. "This could get ugly if he doesn't get in and connects it to you."

"I'll recuse myself if I have to," I said. "But his idea is mediocre at best. He wouldn't get in on merit."

"Doesn't matter to guys like him," Chris said grimly. "They always need someone to blame."

A few days later, Chris and I were having lunch at an outdoor cafe, discussing a charity gala he was helping me organize.

My phone pinged. It was Chris, sending me a link.

His own Twitter feed was lighting up.

A new post. From Mark Jenkins.

This time, his actual, public Twitter account.

Two photos.

One of me and Chris at the cafe, laughing. Taken from across the street, clearly with a zoom lens.

Another, a slightly blurry shot of us getting into Chris's Tesla.

The caption: [Some people at P.T.U. get a career boost from 'networking' with industry insiders. Wonder what kind of 'mentorship' this is? #SiliconValley #EasyStreet]

My blood ran cold.

He was implying...

Chris swore under his breath. "He's escalating. Trying to discredit you publicly."

He looked at me, his jaw set. "And me."

"He's trying to paint you as someone using connections, not talent."

The comments were already rolling in.

[See! Told you these VC types are all connected.]

[Is that her sugar daddy?]

[P.T.U. needs to clean house.]

This wasn't just about my clothes anymore.

This was an attack on my integrity. And Chris's.