The Cover-Up

They moved faster than I expected.

The Frame

The next morning, I woke to chaos.

My college account had been suspended. My hostel room was searched by security—they claimed to have received an "anonymous tip" about stolen equipment. My laptop was confiscated as "evidence."

And in the college disciplinary system, a case had been filed against me: unauthorized access to restricted systems, attempted theft of examination materials, and—most devastatingly—"selling placement data to outside recruiters."

They were framing me with the exact crimes they had committed.

The Evidence

The evidence against me was impressive.

Chat logs (fabricated) showing me negotiating with recruiters. Email threads (created using my compromised account) discussing prices for placement data. System access logs (modified) showing me accessing the shadow server as a user, not an investigator.

To anyone reviewing the case, I looked guilty. A student who had stumbled onto a profitable scheme and gotten caught.

My word against their documentation. And their documentation was impeccable.

The Isolation

Within hours, I was isolated.

My friends were warned not to associate with me. Riya, Amit, and Priya—my allies in the investigation—were each called to administrative offices for "informal discussions" about their connections to me.

They were scared. They stopped responding to messages. I did not blame them.

My parents were contacted. The college described the charges in terms that made me sound like a criminal. My father called, furious and confused. I could not explain over a phone that I knew was monitored.

I was alone, facing an institutional machine that had decided to destroy me.

The Last Copy

But I had prepared for this.

The dead man's switch I had set up was independent of any device they could confiscate. If I did not check in at specific intervals, the evidence would automatically distribute.

More importantly, I had one copy they did not know about.

Before my laptop was taken, I had transferred the final evidence package to a location even the shadow system could not monitor: a physical device, hidden in a place that was not connected to any digital record.

The evidence was safe. I just needed to survive long enough to use it.

The Hearing

The disciplinary hearing was scheduled for three days later.

I requested legal representation. Denied—this was an internal academic matter. I requested time to gather evidence. Denied—the case was "urgent." I requested to face my accusers. Denied—the complainants had requested anonymity.

The process was designed to convict without allowing defense.

I attended the hearing with nothing but my words. I explained what I had actually found. I described the shadow server, the systematic fraud, the external connections. I named Vikram Shetty and his continued access to campus systems.

The panel listened politely. Then they reviewed the "evidence" against me and announced their decision.

Suspension pending formal expulsion proceedings. Recommendation for police involvement.

I was being destroyed.

The Call

That night, locked in my room, I received a call.

Not from Vikram. From someone I did not recognize.

"You've caused a lot of trouble," the voice said. "More than you know."

"Who is this?"

"Someone who has been watching the same system you discovered. Someone who has been waiting for the right moment to act."

"What do you want?"

"To help. But you need to trust me. And you need to move tonight."

The Escape

I should not have trusted an anonymous voice. But I had no other options.

The voice guided me through a path out of the hostel that avoided security cameras. Told me where to find a vehicle waiting. Gave me an address across the city.

I took the hidden evidence with me. Whatever happened, I would not let it be destroyed.

The vehicle took me to an office building. Inside, I found a room full of screens, equipment, and three people I did not recognize.

"Welcome to the resistance," one of them said.

The Bigger Picture

They explained what I had stumbled into.

The shadow system at Somaiya was one node in a larger network. Similar operations existed at colleges across the country—a distributed corruption infrastructure that had been operating for nearly a decade.

This group had been tracking it for years. They were security researchers, journalists, and former victims who had come together to expose the network.

My investigation had provided crucial pieces: technical evidence from inside a node, documentation of methods, proof of external connections that linked multiple campuses.

"You've given us what we needed," they said. "Now let us help you finish this."

The Plan

The plan was simple but risky.

Publish everything simultaneously. Not through one journalist, but through multiple outlets across different cities. Make the story too big to suppress. Force authorities to investigate.

My evidence, combined with what they had gathered, would create an undeniable case. Not just against Vikram, but against the entire network.

But this meant going public. It meant becoming a known target. It meant trusting that exposure would protect me better than hiding.

I agreed. What else could I do?

The Night Before

The publication was scheduled for the next morning.

That night, I wrote letters. To my parents, explaining what I had done and why. To my friends, apologizing for the danger I had put them in. To Vikram, telling him exactly what was about to happen.

I did not know if I would survive the aftermath. The people behind this network had resources, connections, the ability to make problems disappear.

But I had done what I set out to do. Whatever happened tomorrow, the truth would be out.

Cover-ups only work when the covered thing stays buried. Dig deep enough and nothing stays hidden forever.

Next: Allies and enemies—who stands with you when the truth comes out.