Page 73 of Final Drive

I open it under the desk and everything in me goes cold.

It’s a grid post on Kinsley’s main account, not the second account Tyler found but the public one with twelve thousand followers. Three photos side by side. The restaurant footage from Riverside, grainy and unmistakable, Reese at our team dinner with her face flushed and her eyes half shut and a hand under the table that isn’t hers. A shot of Reese leaving our house at six in the morning with her hair wrecked, wearing one of Bo’s flannels. And a screenshot of Reese’s student profile with the designation field circled in red. Beta. Kinsley’s put her own word across it in white block letters. LIAR.

The caption reads: When someone files a fake harassment complaint to cover up the fact that she’s been sleeping with her entire team and lying about her designation to the university. Receipts below. #SableRidge #OmegaExposed #ProtectWomensRowing

Four hundred likes. Twenty minutes old.

I’m out of my seat before Professor Dalton finishes his sentence about market externalities. He says something after me and I’m already through the door with the phone at my ear.

Gray answers on the first ring. “I know.”

“Where’s Reese?”

“In Tyler’s class. She doesn’t know yet. Bo’s on his way.”

“How bad?”

“Southeastern Sports Network picked it up. Kowalski reposted it with a developing-story tag.” Gray’s voice has gone past anger into the cold register. “Kinsley tagged the athletics department, the dean’s office, and three local outlets.”

“She found out about the complaint.”

“Her family has connections all over the university. Somebody probably told her before the ink dried.” A pause. “Get to the house.”

I cut across the quad at a half-jog and go around a group of freshmen who stop to watch me pass. One of them says something to her friend and holds up her phone.

They’ve seen it.

The house is filling up when I get there. Zane’s walking a trench into the living room carpet. Jackson’s on the couch, bent forward with his hands laced behind his neck and his head down between his shoulders, which is what he does instead of putting a fist through drywall.

“Eli?”

“Upstairs, on the phone with Tyler’s contact in the registrar’s office.” Jackson doesn’t lift his head. “The profile screenshot is real. Somebody accessed her actual records. If it was pulled and handed over without authorization, we’ve got a FERPA problem on top of everything else.”

“Or Kinsley faked it.”

“She didn’t.” Zane stops long enough to hold his screen up. Student ID number, enrollment date, designation field, all of it genuine. “Somebody on the inside gave it to her.”

The front door opens. Bo comes in first with a hand at Reese’s back. She’s white to the lips and holding herself so tightly I can see the tendons in her neck. She’s seen it. She walks straight to the dining table, pulls out a chair, and sits.

Nobody says anything.

“Okay,” she says. Her voice is thin and level, like a line with too much weight on it. “Walk me through it.”

Gray comes out of the kitchen with the laptop. “Posted at eight forty-two. Three images. The restaurant photo is Riverside. The morning shot was taken from a car parked across the street, probably last week. The profile is genuine.”

“Which means somebody with access to university records may have pulled it without authorization.” Eli comes down the stairs with his phone still in his hand. “Tyler’s contact is checking the access logs. If they find an improper access or disclosure, the university has a serious problem.”

“The hashtag is trending locally.” Tyler’s on speaker. He’s left class too. “Kowalski hasn’t written anything yet, but she’s DMing people on both teams looking for quotes.”

Reese takes all of it without moving.

I watch her the way I watch everybody, for the cracks and the tells and the gap between what somebody shows and what they’ve got. Her hands are flat on the table. Her breathing is even. She isn’t coming apart. She’s running numbers.

“Comments?” she asks.

“Mostly her side right now.” Zane doesn’t want to say it. “The women’s rowing community is closing ranks. A lot of protect-women’s-spaces and Omegas-don’t-belong.”

“Any support?”