Chapter 4

Emily came out of the exam hall, her face glowing. The storm had passed, and the afternoon sun cast long shadows across the campus courtyard.

"Dad, it was incredible!" she said, rushing over to hug me. "The main essay question... it was exactly the topic you told me to focus on! It felt like you predicted it!"

I smiled, a genuine smile for the first time in what felt like an eternity. "I just know how you think, sweetie. I knew you' d do great."

My gaze shifted across the courtyard. Mark stumbled out of a different exit, his face ashen, his suit rumpled. He looked like he' d been through a war. He spotted Susan, who was waiting anxiously, and marched straight towards her.

"You!" he snarled, his voice loud enough to turn heads. "I couldn' t concentrate! All I could think about was that stupid pendant and my money! You ruined everything!"

Susan flinched as if struck. "Mark, I was just trying to help..."

"Help?" he laughed, a bitter, ugly sound. "You' re an idiot, Susan! A complete idiot!"

Just then, a colleague from the university, a history professor named Dr. Albright, walked up to me.

"David, just wanted to say thanks again," he said warmly. "That 'master' you recommended was fantastic. My son was so nervous, but whatever that guy did, it worked like a charm. He came out of the exam feeling like a new man."

Susan' s head snapped in our direction. Her argument with Mark forgotten, her eyes narrowed with a familiar, scheming curiosity.

I clapped Dr. Albright on the shoulder. "Ah, it' s just superstition, you know how it is. Glad it helped your boy." We both shared a small, knowing look. We downplayed it, making it seem like a silly secret we were almost embarrassed to admit.

As Emily and I walked away, I glanced back. I saw the cogs turning in Susan' s mind. She was looking from the distraught Mark to me, a plan already forming on her face.

Twenty minutes later, my phone buzzed. It was a text from Dr. Albright.

"The fish took the bait. She asked for the master' s number."

Later that afternoon, as students filed in for the second part of the exam, I saw Susan rush up to Mark. She was holding a large thermos.

"I made you some special energizing tea," she said, her voice cloyingly sweet. "It' s blessed. It will help you focus."

Mark looked suspicious, but he was exhausted and defeated. He took the thermos and, after a moment' s hesitation, took a long drink. He made a face.

"It tastes weird," he grumbled.

"That' s the magic," Susan said with a smug, knowing smile.

I watched from a distance, my expression unreadable.

An hour into the exam, the silence of the campus was broken by the wail of a siren. An ambulance pulled up to the exam hall.

A few minutes later, the paramedics emerged, pushing a gurney.

On it was Mark. His face was a sickly, pale green. He was convulsing, his body drenched in sweat. A dark, wet stain was spreading on his pants. He was groaning in agony.

Susan screamed his name, her smugness replaced by pure terror, and ran after the gurney as they loaded it into the ambulance.