Chapter 338 Trial by Fire +8 Pearls

Rumors about Elsie were spreading online like wildfire—some true, some twisted beyond recognition. Either way, it was enough to keep her locked inside, curtains drawn, too afraid to even step out the door.

She spent the entire night crying on the couch, blowing through two boxes of tissues.

Owen slammed his fist into the armrest. “Is Yunice trying to destroy this family? She must be having another psychotic episode! Can’t we have her committed again!”

Even Lily hadn’t expected things to get this out of hand. What started as noise about Yunice’s cheating had somehow dragged Elsie into the mess. And these days, internet users weren’t so easily distracted. What if someone dug up real dirt on Elsie?

At that point, the entire Saunders family would be toast.

All Owen wanted now was for Yunice to shut it all down. He’d called her a dozen times.

She never picked up.

Elsie sobbed, voice hoarse. “She cheated, and she’s still not satisfied—she wants to take me down with her!”

Owen paced the room, gritting his teeth. “She’s a compulsive liar. No one’s going to believe her tomorrow. Let her embarrass herself on livestream. Who would trust a professional fraud?”

Lily nodded. “Exactly. Just don’t engage. Keep a low profile and let the fire burn out on its own. If anyone should be panicking, it’s her.”

She wasn’t wrong.

The internet had already whipped itself into a frenzy.

Yunice had promised to prove her innocence live—and users weren’t going to miss the show.

A public vote decided on the format: a livestreamed, on-site exam at a stadium, with volunteers selecting the test questions in real-time.

The stadium had full surveillance coverage. No one believed she could cheat under those conditions.

Yunice wasn’t surprised by the result.

She’d already arranged for the venue and security. It was a public event, so she’d filed official notice with the city. Police and guards had cordoned off the perimeter to keep order.

Inside the massive stadium, a single desk had been placed in the center of the field. Cameras from every major outlet followed Yunice as she entered.

“Miss Yunice,” she said with a bright smile into the mic, “did you make it today?”

A reporter replied from the press box, “We reached out, but her family told us she was hospitalized last night from severe stress brought on by online harassment. She’s currently unconscious with a high fever.”

Yunice lifted her brows. “That’s unfortunate.”

Another journalist pressed her. “Why are you so set on involving Miss Yunice? Are you trying to ruin her reputation? Or is it like people online are saying—that you planted her as a decoy?”

Yunice looked directly at the camera. “So she can accuse me anonymously, but I can’t ask her to say it to my face?”

“That was a public callout. Doesn’t that violate her right to privacy?”

“She’s welcome to send me a cease-and-desist.”

Yunice walked calmly to the lone desk in the center of the stadium.

1/2 Yunice sat down quietly while the professors conferred. Each had prepared a set of questions. The format? A randomized lottery draw.

Ping-pong balls marked with the question sets were tossed into a transparent spinning cage. One would be drawn at random.

Before they could start, Yunice lifted a hand.

She looked up toward the judges and the livestream cameras.

“I just want to be sure we’re all on the same page here. Are you positive this setup is foolproof? Totally fair?”

“Because no matter how this turns out, I’ll make one thing clear: every one of you cheering this on—every commenter, every voter—you’re all part of this.”

What the hell’s she talking about now?

This chick’s totally losing it. And this is your ‘SAT top scorer’? Really?

The livestream kept rolling. A professor drew a ball. Yunice got up, received her test sheet, and returned to her desk.

Two questions per professor—short but extremely difficult. The kind of questions that only the top 1% of test-takers could answer.

Cameras zoomed in on Yunice’s answer sheet. Every step of her logic was visible to the audience.

Across the country, thousands of teachers, tutors, and college students watched the stream and began analyzing her work in real-time.

“She got that part wrong.”

“Why wouldn’t she use the easier formula here? Did she forget it—or does she not know it?”

“Wait, she skipped a step here. That’s a red flag.”

Online debates exploded as self-proclaimed experts pounced on every little error.

And Yunice? She didn’t blink.