Marcus Reed was late.
That alone was enough to make people stare.
Marcus was never late.
Coach Miller checked his watch. "Reed?"
The gym doors opened five minutes into drills.
Marcus walked in.
No swagger. No smirk. No joke.
Just tension.
"Sorry," he muttered.
Coach studied him for a second too long. "Warm up."
Elias didn't stop running suicides.
But he noticed.
Of course he noticed.
Marcus missed three shots in a row.
Tyler frowned. "You good?"
"Yeah," Marcus snapped.
He wasn't.
His movements were sharper than usual. Forced. Every pass just slightly off.
Pressure does that.
It tightens the body.
Slows the mind.
During scrimmage, Marcus guarded Elias.
Too close again.
"You think you're funny?" Marcus muttered under his breath.
Elias dribbled slowly.
"About what?"
"Don't play dumb."
"I'm not playing anything."
Marcus shoved him lightly before Elias even moved.
Whistle.
Foul.
Coach's voice cut through the gym. "Control yourself, Reed!"
The gym went quiet for a second.
Embarrassment flickered across Marcus's face.
Elias saw it.
Stored it.
After practice, whispers followed Marcus down the hallway.
Soft. Curious.
"Did you hear about his dad?"
"Something about an audit."
"Fraud or something?"
Nothing confirmed.
But rumors don't need confirmation.
They just need oxygen.
And someone had quietly opened a window.
In the locker room, Marcus slammed his locker shut.
The metal echoed.
Tyler looked uncomfortable. "Ignore it. People talk."
Marcus didn't answer.
He pulled out his phone.
Thirty-two unread messages.
Family group chat exploding.
His jaw tightened.
Elias tied his shoes slowly on the bench behind him.
He didn't look at Marcus.
But he spoke.
"Hard to focus when things at home are messy."
Marcus froze.
The room felt smaller.
"What did you just say?" Marcus asked.
Elias finally looked up.
Calm.
Blank.
"Nothing."
Silence stretched.
Marcus stepped closer.
"How do you know about my dad?"
Elias blinked once.
"I don't."
He stood.
Walked past him.
And that was worse.
Because now Marcus wasn't sure.
Was it coincidence?
Or was someone watching?
That night, Marcus couldn't sleep.
His parents were arguing downstairs.
Voices raised. Glass breaking. His mother crying.
He put his headphones on.
Turned the volume up.
But the words still cut through.
"Investigation." "Charges." "Lawyer."
His world wasn't solid anymore.
And when the world shifts—
People look for something to blame.
Across town, Elias sat at his desk.
Laptop open.
The local news article about the company audit still on screen.
He refreshed the page.
Nothing new.
Not yet.
He opened a blank document.
Typed one sentence:
Reputation collapses faster than buildings.
Then he opened a new anonymous account.
No name.
No picture.
Just silence.
He attached the news link.
Added one line:
Interesting timing for the captain of the basketball team.
He didn't post it.
Not yet.
Timing mattered.
Revenge wasn't emotion.
It was engineering.
He leaned back in his chair.
Closed his eyes.
Eleven-year-old laughter echoed in his memory.
Metal door slamming.
"Don't cry, princess."
His fingers hovered over the screen.
Then—
He smiled.
Because Marcus was already cracking.
And Elias hadn't even started pushing.
The next morning at school, something had changed.
People looked at Marcus differently.
Just slightly.
Just enough.
Suspicion is contagious.
And it spreads quietly.
One whisper at a time.
One look at a time.
One crack at a time.
Elias walked past him in the hallway.
Didn't stop.
Didn't speak.
But as he passed, he said softly—
"Careful."
Marcus turned sharply.
"Careful of what?"
Elias kept walking.
And didn't answer.
Because the first thing to break isn't a person.
It's their certainty.