The cease-and-desist letters went out three days later.
Miles didn’t use any personal channels. He had Aegis Dynamics’ legal team coordinate with my attorney. Formal notices hit everyone involved in the campus harassment, the distribution of degrading content, the invasion of privacy, and the defamation from ten years ago.
The venue’s security footage from that night was submitted as evidence alongside the criminal complaint.
The moment word got out, social media exploded.
Old classmates started deleting posts, swapping profile pictures, changing usernames.
Some scrubbed their forum accounts overnight.
Some called my parents, begging.
My mom was shaking with rage when one call came in. She put it on speaker.
It was Chloe’s mother.
“Mrs. Parker, the kids were young. They didn’t know any better. Your Nora’s doing so well now, isn’t she? I heard she’s marrying some big-shot CEO. My daughter just landed a government job. If she gets hit with a lawsuit, her whole career is over.”
My mom’s laugh was ice.
“Whether your daughter’s life gets ruined or not, I don’t know. But my daughter’s life was almost destroyed when she was eighteen.”
“And let me be clear—don’t say she ‘married well.’ Everything she has now, she built herself. Step by step. None of you get to take credit for any of it.”
The line went dead silent. Then it clicked off.
My mom turned and wrapped her arms around me. There was more gray in her hair now.
“Sweetie, I used to be so scared of hurting you more that I never dared to ask. Now I know—you were all alone down south, carrying so much.”
I hugged her back, whispering, “That’s all over now.”
She shook her head.
“It’s not over until someone apologizes. We don’t owe them a single thing.”
My nose stung. I nodded hard.
No. We didn’t owe them anything.
A week before the hearing, my lawyer brought the compiled evidence binders. Three thick volumes.
The first page was a transcript of the recording from ten years ago.
Ethan’s voice came through sharp and gut-wrenching. “I already did what you said. Changed her apps on the down-low. She’s headed to Crestwood. We’ll be at Lakewood. She’s always been a crybaby. Easy to calm down.”
The second section was the group chat logs.
From the night of that party right up to the day acceptance letters hit—message after message, all of it saved.
Dozens of them were direct insults aimed at me. Even more were dedicated to sharing, spreading, and mocking where I’d ended up.
The third section was the thread screenshots.
[Q: How long until Nora Parker completely breaks?]
Over a hundred posts. Shared hundreds of times. The original creepshot, the full distribution chain, every account linked to it—all time-stamped and mapped out by the legal team.
The fourth section was my therapy records.
Freshman fall semester. Insomnia. Anxiety. Panic attacks. The clinical notes read—
[Patient exhibits clear post-traumatic stress symptoms. Onset correlates with unauthorized alteration of college enrollment decision and subsequent group-targeted humiliation.]
I stared at that line. My fingertips were trembling.
Miles sat beside me, his hand closing over mine.
“You don’t have to keep going.”
I shook my head. “I’m finishing it.”
Page by page, I walked back through the darkest stretch of my life. I thought I’d break. But by the last page, I felt strangely still.
The last page was a photo from sophomore year—the National Model UN awards. I was in a blazer, standing on stage, mid-laugh, bright and fierce.
Miles was in the crowd, watching me. We weren’t together yet. But there was already something soft in his eyes.
My lawyer said, “Ms. Parker, the timeline on this case stretches back pretty far, but your evidence preservation is exceptionally thorough.”
“The unauthorized access to your college application portal—while some parts may fall outside certain statutes of limitations—combined with the ongoing emotional distress, civil liability, and the recent physical assault, gives us a very strong chain. The outcome should be solid.”
I nodded. “Thank you for all the work.”
After he left, Miles asked, “Nervous?”
I thought about it. “A little.”
He gave me a small smile. “Want to push the wedding back?”
“No,” I said, instantly.
Miles paused.
I looked at him, steady. “I’m suing them because I owe that to who I used to be. But I’m not delaying my happiness one more day for them.”
The smile in his eyes deepened, spreading slow.
He leaned down and kissed my forehead. “Okay. Then I’ll keep working on the wedding.”
I raised an eyebrow. “Mr. Grant, personally planning his own wedding?”
He held my hand, thumb tracing the ring on my finger.
“Marrying you? Yeah, I’m not handing that off to anyone else.”
Something in my chest just melted. All those teenage feelings—the ones that got trashed and mocked and stomped out—someone had finally gathered them up, gentle, in both hands.
Not to prove anything to Ethan.
But to remind me.
I deserved to be cherished.