Roman and Julienne's heart desire
Chapter 68: The Anonymous Video File

Chapter 68: The Anonymous Video File

Roman stepped forward and adjusted her gently. "Too stiff. Balance here." He knelt slightly and tapped the inside of her knees.

Julie let out a sudden giggle, biting her lip as she instinctively shifted away from his fingers. "Sorry—ticklish," she said, laughing quietly.

Roman paused, raising an eyebrow. His serious expression didn’t falter, but a small flicker of amusement passed through his eyes.

Then—his gaze settled back into razor focus.

"Julie," he said lowly, his tone dropping back into command. "This isn’t a game."

Her laughter died in her throat.

She stood straighter, eyes wide. "Right. Sorry."

Roman didn’t say more. He stepped back, gesturing again. "Bend. Keep your left hand closer to your cheek. Right hand here."

Julie nodded quickly and obeyed, her face now flushed—not from embarrassment, but from knowing that for the next hour, she was no longer the girl in slippers.

She was the girl being prepared to survive.

Julie adjusted again.

His hands were firm but never rough—he touched her like she might break, but spoke like he knew she had to learn not to.

"Now... punch."

She threw one awkwardly, nearly falling off balance.

Roman caught her by the waist without even blinking. "Again."

She steadied.

He moved a pad to his palm. "Aim here. Don’t look at the floor."

Julie swung again, this time making contact. Not strong, not fast—but real.

Roman’s eyes never left her. "Good. Now again. Until your arms burn. Until your body doesn’t flinch. Until fear has no place left to hide."

She met his eyes then, and something in her tightened—like this moment was about more than training.

More than the lies people were spreading. More than the danger waiting beyond the gates.

This was about becoming unbreakable.

And Roman would be the one to build her into it.

Julie collapsed onto the mat, breathless, cheeks red, hair sticking to her face. Her arms felt like jelly, and her heart thumped loudly in her chest.

Roman handed her a towel and water bottle, his expression unreadable.

"You’re not weak," he said, as if reading her thoughts.

She looked up, panting. "I feel like noodles."

Roman crouched beside her, brushing a damp strand of hair from her face.

"Even noodles can strangle someone if you know how to use them," he smirked slightly.

Julie let out a tired laugh, and for a moment, the darkness in the room melted.

But Roman’s voice turned serious again. "What happened at school today—what’s happening—will only get worse. I’m not letting anyone crush you. But I’m not shielding you from it either."

Julie met his eyes.

"I’ll fight," she whispered. "Just... don’t leave me to do it alone."

Roman’s voice dropped to a vow. "I won’t."

And as she leaned against the ropes, aching but burning with a fire she didn’t know she had, she realized—

She wasn’t the same Julie anymore.

And soon... neither would the world be.

–——********

The interior of the Mercedes was silent except for the subtle hum of the engine.

Miranda sat in the back seat, legs crossed, looking down at her phone. Her manicured finger hovered over the "send" button.

On the screen was a video—grainy, perfectly edited to look like a hidden recording.

In the footage, it showed Julie in one of the faculty offices. Her face was clear.

But what made it damning was the voice-over added—Julie supposedly offering something in exchange for exam favors.

Of course, it wasn’t her real voice. Tasha had run the clip through an AI voice-over generator, copying her tone perfectly from an old presentation recording.

It wasn’t real.

But it looked real enough to destroy her.

"Are you sure this will reach the department heads?" Miranda asked coldly.

Alina, sitting beside her, nodded confidently. "We’re sending it anonymously. No trace back to us. And we’ll leak it to the class group chats right after. Say someone ’caught it and was scared to speak.’ It’ll spiral on its own."

Miranda stared at her reflection in the tinted window. "Good. Let it burn slowly."

She clicked send.

In another part of the university, a week had already passed since her return.

Julie walked with a lightness in her steps, a soft smile playing on her lips.

For the first time in a long while, she didn’t feel like a ghost drifting through the halls.

She was starting to make friends.

Laughter no longer felt foreign, and conversations didn’t feel like minefields.

The once isolating walls of the university now echoed with names that called out to her—not in judgment, but in camaraderie. It wasn’t perfect, but it was progress.

And for Julie, that was more than enough.

She was no longer alone.

The university campus buzzed with the usual energy of a weekday morning—students heading to lectures, group chats echoing through the walkways, and the scent of coffee and freshly cut grass lingering in the air.

Julie walked through the front gates in her usual quiet fashion, a small leather satchel slung over her shoulder, and her long coat swaying gently with each step.

Her expression was composed, peaceful. But beneath it, she could feel it—the atmosphere had shifted again.

Some people still smiled at her.

But others... their eyes lingered too long. Their whispers came too quickly.

Julie walked into the main building, unaware that faculty members were already receiving the email.

In one go all the professors phone buzz and they look at each other before all of them take hold of their phones to look at the notification.

There was a video file send to them attached with URGENT – Misconduct Warning.

A few professors watched the file silently, expressions turning grim, confused.

One of them—Professor Emeka, who liked Julie’s quiet brilliance—frowned deeply. "This doesn’t feel right..." he muttered.

Still, the gossip had started.

In the compus ground as Julie walked her phone buzzed with rapid notifications.

Class Group: Broadcast

"This is what happens when pretty faces come with fake honors."

Julie stopped in her tracks, her heart dropping. Students were turning their heads toward her.

Some pointed at their phones. Others outright stared which clearly said something.

Her fingers trembled as she opened the video—and her breath hitched, it was the video Miranda created.

It was her.

Or... it looked like her.

Sitting across from a professor. Speaking. But it wasn’t her voice. Not her words. The entire thing was a lie.

But it was convincing.

Too convincing.

In the Administration Office.

Two faculty members spoke in hushed tones.

"If this is true, she should be expelled." with a frown on his face.

"But this could be manipulated. We need to investigate first." the other one said with a calm and collected face.

Still, the damage had started.

Julie ducked into the restroom, her chest heaving.

She locked the stall door behind her and slid down until she was sitting on the cold tile floor.

Her mind raced, heart pounding against her ribcage.

She couldn’t breathe.

Who had done this?

She barely had enemies—except...

A knock on the door echoed.

"Julie?" came a soft voice.

She didn’t respond.

"Hey... you okay?" It was Ava, one of the few neutral girls on campus and also her new friend in her department beside Bekora.

Julie opened the door slightly.

Ava handed her the phone screen. "They’re saying it’s you. But... I know you didn’t do this. It just doesn’t add up."

Julie met her gaze, tears forming in the corner of her eyes—but she held them back.

"Thank you," she whispered.

Ava nodded. "You have to fight back."

Julie looked at her own reflection in the mirror.

Julie’s narrowed in thoughts ’ Yes I have to,’ Julie said in her head and her eyes flash with determination.

From the rooftop lounge of the student union building, Miranda sipped her iced coffee, watching the chaos unfold beneath her.

"Hmm... playing with fire, are you?" Miranda said with a slow, wide smile, eyes gleaming as she watched the chaos below. Her plan was unfolding exactly as she intended.

She took a lazy sip of her iced coffee, then turned slightly toward one of her friends with a smirk that held no warmth.

"What was her name again?" she asked, voice dripping with mock curiosity—though they all knew she hadn’t forgotten.

Down below, the murmurs were rising. The crowd had begun to form its own version of the truth.

Julie Wilson was no longer the mysterious transfer.

She was Julie the Cheat.

The quiet girl with secrets.

"Julienne Wilson," her friend answered with exaggerated sweetness, rolling the name off her tongue like a joke.

They burst into laughter, the sound sharp and cruel against the soft breeze.

"The new transfer who couldn’t make it on merit," Miranda added, her tone cold with satisfaction.

And as they watched students whisper and share the video, their smiles only grew wider—unaware that the fire they’d set was about to turn.

Around the corner, standing by the window outside the student union building, the guard Malik—disguised as a janitor—watched the scene unfold.

"What’s going on," the other guard who come to stand beside him asked.

"I think ma’am is in trouble," Malik replied his face cold with no emotions.

He caught the video drop in real-time, monitored the students sharing it, even traced the first upload ping back to a private server.

The original device was untraceable—but the pattern of the attack? Coordinated. Precision-timed.

He pressed a small comms device tucked beneath his collar.

"Shadow One reporting. Code Black. Target compromised. Initiating report to Primary."

The double glass doors of RJ Company parted smoothly as Roman stepped inside, the polished floor reflecting the sharp lines of his tailored suit and the quiet command in his presence.

Two assistants rushed forward, clutching tablets and folders, already speaking before they reached him.

"Sir, the board is ready. The Singapore investors are—"

Roman’s phone vibrated. Not the usual one.

This was the slim, untraceable device embedded in the lining of his inner jacket—used only for top-tier communications from the inner circle.

Only three people in the world had access to that line. And he wasn’t one of them who waited to be told twice.

He pulled it out.

No passwords. No hesitation.

The screen flashed:

LIVE ALERT: CODE BLACK — JULIE COMPROMISED. PLAYBACK ENABLED.

He tapped play. A few seconds passed. That was all he needed.

His expression didn’t change—but something in him locked down.

Cold. Calculating. Lethal.

The assistant to his left hesitated. "Sir?"

Roman’s voice was ice. "Cancel the meeting."

"But—sir, the board—"

"I said cancel it."

He turned and strode toward the private elevator, already dialing into Malik’s encrypted channel.

And just like that, the man they thought was a billionaire CEO... became something else entirely.