The Student I Sponsored Framed Me As Predator

I was browsing legal case studies online when I accidentally stumbled into a lawyer's livestream.

A young woman was sobbing into the camera, her voice trembling as she pleaded for help.

Attorney Miller, my professor is trying to force himself on me. He took compromising photos and is blackmailing me into being his mistress. He said he won't let me graduate unless I comply. What can I do to protect myself?

The chat section exploded with righteous fury, everyone cursing the predatory professor.

"What an absolute monster! This girl worked so hard to get into a good college, and he's treating her like his personal toy?"

"Don't be afraid, honey. Tell us which university he's at. We'll dox this creep and make sure he never works again!"

I watched the screen with a numb expression, then looked down at the bank transfers on my phone.

Five hundred. A thousand. Two hundred.

For three years, I had been sending her money.

The woman crying in that livestream was the very student I had been sponsoring out of my own pocket.

Just a few days ago, she was bragging on social media about buying the latest iPhone. Then she turned around and messaged me for more money, calling me her savior.

Now, she was painting me as a perverted beast.

If that's how she wanted to play it, I didn't need to save her reputation anymore.

In the middle of my lecture, the sound of the livestream echoed through the hall. I frowned, feeling a heavy weight in my chest.

A student suddenly stood up, his face flushed with anger.

"Silas Vance, she's talking about you, isn't she? I can't believe we've been learning from a predator."

"We won't accept a monster like you as our professor. You're desecrating this campus. Get the hell out!"

I opened my mouth, desperate to defend myself.

Before I could speak, a textbook flew through the air and slammed into my head.

"We don't want to hear your lies! Leave!"

My heart turned to ice. I took a shaky breath, feeling a bitter sting in my eyes.

It had been five years.

I started sponsoring Brielle Shaw five years ago.

It started with small amounts, but eventually, I was sending her thousands a month.

I wanted her to focus on her studies without worrying about rent. I didn't just give her money; I even helped her with her research papers.

I never imagined my kindness would fuel such greed.

When the new iPhone launched, she bought it immediately.

I scolded her for the unnecessary spending and told her I would be cutting off the financial support.

In response, Brielle broke into my office, stripped off her clothes, and tried to force herself into my arms while taking photos to blackmail me.

She had the audacity to claim that if I didn't have feelings for her, I wouldn't have given her so much money.

I pushed her away instantly. I told her the money was meant for a struggling student, not a bribe for her body.

I never thought she would take it to the internet.

Now, Brielle was using those photoshopped pictures to make me public enemy number one.

Within minutes, the respect in my students' eyes turned into pure loathing.

I was no longer a respected professor; I was a dirty old man.

I touched the wound on my forehead where the book had hit me. I tried to keep my voice steady.

"I didn't do it. Those photos are edited..."

The disgust on their faces only deepened.

"Why would a girl lie about something like that? You're just using your position to bully her into silence."

"We won't let you get away with this. You're going to pay for what you've done."

"Even your ex-wife is calling you out! She said she divorced you because you were harassing students. What do you have to say to that?"

I froze. My hands shook as I pulled up the comments on the livestream.

There she was. My cheating ex-wife, Vanessa Thorne, was publicly supporting Brielle.

She called me a hypocrite and claimed I was a violent man.

She said she barely escaped our marriage.

I trembled with rage.

I was the one who caught her in bed with another man.

I had kept it quiet back then because I felt guilty for being a workaholic. I didn't want to ruin her life over one mistake.

Now, my silence had become the weapon she was using to destroy me.

It was pathetic.

I looked up to speak, but a roar of fury came from the back of the room.

"You're the bastard who slept with my daughter! I'll kill you!"

A heavy fist slammed into my jaw.

I collapsed to the floor. My glasses fell and were instantly crushed under someone's boot.

Before I could see my attacker, he was on top of me, raining blows down on my face.

"You animal! You think you can touch my daughter? You better have fifty thousand dollars ready, or you're dead!"

The crowd cheered him on. The security guards arrived late, but they didn't move to stop him.

One guard just spat on the floor. "A creep like this deserves a beating. Disgusting."

Only twelve hours ago, that same guard was thanking me for lending him money for his daughter's medicine.

"I... I didn't..." I gasped, my vision blurring.

I thought the truth would set me free.

But they didn't want the truth.

They just wanted someone to bleed for their anger.

Suddenly, a chair was smashed over my head.

Blood pooled on the floor, and the world went black.

I was choked awake.

As soon as I opened my eyes, I broke into a fit of violent coughing.

The nurse standing by my bed glared at me with pure hatred.

"You monster! The girl you harassed is about to jump off a building. Are you happy now?"

Panic surged through me. I ripped the IV out of my arm and forced my battered body toward the campus.

I grew up as an orphan. I had no family.

After the divorce, I was completely alone in the world.

Most of my salary went toward charity. If I wasn't helping students, I was donating to the orphanage where I grew up.

Life had been hard for me, and I only survived because of the kindness of strangers.

Now that I had the means, I wanted to pay it forward.

When I heard Brielle's parents were going to pull her out of school to sell her into a marriage for a payout, I stepped in.

I even told her the money came from a university fund so she wouldn't feel the burden of debt.

I just wanted her to graduate and give back to society one day.

But her grades started slipping. She was failing classes and missing exams.

I was worried and wanted to talk to her about her future.

Then I saw her social media. She had posted a picture of a brand-new iPhone 17.

The caption was pure arrogance.

Nearly two grand, paid in full.

The comments were filled with shallow praise.

So jealous! You must have paid a premium to get it this early!

Brielle is such a rich queen!

Goals! Share some of that wealth with us!

I was stunned. Where did she get that kind of money?

Before I could take a screenshot, the post was deleted.

I asked her classmates and found out she was constantly flaunting luxury items.

Designer clothes, expensive lattes she'd throw away half-finished, influencer cafes every weekend.

When I finally confronted her about it and told her the sponsorship was over, she didn't apologize.

That night, she snuck into my office and stripped.

"Professor Vance, I can sleep with you. But after I graduate, you have to buy me a car and a house. You have to take care of me."

I nearly had a heart attack. I threw her out and gave her a piece of my mind.

"Brielle, have you no self-respect? I supported you so you could build a future, not so you could sell yourself!"

She screamed back at me.

"Who the hell are you to judge me? You're just a lonely old man. You only paid for me because you wanted my body!"

"If you're too cheap to pay up, fine! Just wait. I'll make you regret this!"

I didn't take the threat seriously at the time.

I never expected her to be this good at playing the victim.

I dragged myself up to the roof of the science building.

As soon as I reached the door, rough hands grabbed me.

"Look at the mess you've caused! If she jumps, this school's reputation is finished! Get over there and talk her down!"

The dean shoved me toward the edge. Brielle was standing on the ledge, looking down.

My leg was injured, and I stumbled, falling hard onto the concrete.

The blood from my forehead started dripping again.

The other professors looked at me with disgust. One even spat near my hand.

"Pathetic. You're a disgrace to this institution."

"Because of this prick, the whole country is laughing at us. We're an Ivy League school, and now we're being boycotted!"

I tried to defend myself, but a wave of exhaustion hit me.

Reporters shoved microphones and cameras into my face.

"Professor Vance, have you been using your charity work to hunt for victims for twenty years?"

"Do you feel any shame for violating the trust of your students?"

"Silas..."

I looked directly into the lens, my eyes cold.

"I have never done anything to violate my professional ethics."

"I helped those students because they had nothing. There was never any ulterior motive."

I pulled a stack of papers from my bagDthe records of every cent I had donated.

"Here is the list of thousands of students I've helped and every donation I've made to foster care."

"I was an orphan. People helped me, so I helped others. That's all there is to it."

"I never touched her. Brielle Shaw tried to solicit me, and I turned her down. That is the truth."

I've handled enough defamation cases to know how to stand my ground.

"My assistant, Caleb Reed, saw her in my office that day. He has the security footage to prove my innocence!"

The reporters hesitated. My conviction was starting to make them doubt her story.

One reporter grunted. "You better be telling the truth, or we'll make sure you rot in a cell."

I felt a small spark of hope.

"I stand by every word. Once Caleb arrives with the footage, you'll see."

A moment later, Caleb Reed walked onto the roof. He looked pale and nervous.

A bad feeling settled in my stomach.

Sure enough, he pointed a finger at me, his voice trembling with faked righteousness.

"Professor, I can't do it. I won't help you fake the footage or lie for you anymore."

"I don't care if you promise me a PhD or a high-paying job. I won't help you destroy this girl. Brielle is a victim, and you're trying to kill her!"

The reporters' faces darkened instantly.

On the ledge, Brielle started screaming.

"Please, Professor! Stop lying! Stop hurting me!"

"I worked so hard to get here! I'd rather die than be your pet!"

Brielle's parents surged toward the ledge, wailing.

"My baby girl! If you jump, we're jumping with you!"

"We can't fight a powerful man like him. We're just poor people!"

The roof was in total chaos. People were grabbing them, trying to prevent a triple suicide.

One of the reporters lost his temper and swung his heavy camera at my face.

The flashbulbs were blinding as they took photos of me bleeding on the ground.

"The world needs to see your face. A predator and a coward who pushes girls to the edge."

"You're lying to our faces right now! Imagine what you do behind closed doors!"

I crawled away from the kicks, looking up at Caleb.

"Why are you doing this? Tell them the truth!" I hissed.

He stood tall, looking like a hero.

"This is your fault, Silas. I won't let an innocent girl suffer just for a recommendation letter."

"Go ahead, fail my thesis. I don't care. I'm doing the right thing."

Then, Vanessa showed up. My ex-wife pushed through the crowd, looking like a grieving saint.

"Silas, I caught you eyeing girls years ago. When I confronted you, you framed me for cheating to get a clean divorce."

"I almost killed myself because of your lies. I'm here to make sure this girl doesn't suffer the same fate."

The crowd's hatred reached a boiling point.

My head was spinning. Everything felt loud and distorted.

I screamed toward the ledge.

"Brielle! I saved you! I kept your parents from selling you off! Is this how you thank me?"

Brielle just sobbed harder.

"Stop it! Just let me end it!"

She turned around as if to jump.

At the last second, a firefighter grabbed her arm and tackled her back onto the roof.

She collapsed into a ball, wailing into her hands.

The crowd breathed a sigh of relief, then turned their fury back on me.

"You tried to kill her right in front of us! We won't let you get away with this!"

Everyone was on her side.

I knew if I didn't end this now, I was done. My life would be a living hell of lawsuits and harassment.

I forced myself to be calm. I looked at the cameras.

"I called the police twenty minutes ago. If you don't believe me, let them decide!"

In the distance, the sirens were already screaming.