Chapter 128 The Professor’s Confession
The room was dead quiet, the silence heavy after Wesley asked his question.
What’s SP-117?
Professor Sterling’s face had drained of all color, turning a sickening shade of pale. His hands were clenched so tight at his sides that his knuckles were stark white. He stood there, frozen, clearly looking for any possible way out of answering.
Veyra looked right at him, her tone completely calm and unbothered.
"SP-117 is a specialized sodium pentobarbital serum," she said, her voice carrying easily through the silent space. "In simpler terms, it is a truth serum."
Xiomara’s face went completely white, all her previous confidence evaporating in an instant.
Professor Sterling’s eyes widened in genuine shock. "How on earth do you know that?"
"I read your research," Veyra replied evenly. "Every single paper you put out. Every journal article. Every single tiny footnote at the bottom of the page." She paused for a brief second, watching his reaction. "You never published the exact chemical ingredients anywhere, of course. But I spent enough time studying your work to figure it out on my own."
Xiomara let out a high, hysterical laugh that sounded totally fake. "That is not possible! You’re making all of this up! She’s lying!"
"I am not lying," Veyra said, slowly turning her gaze toward the girl. "You look very nervous all of a sudden, Xiomara."
Xiomara’s hands were shaking so badly she had to lock her fingers together. "I am not nervous!"
"Your skin is completely pale. Your hands are visibly shaking. There are beads of sweat running down your temples," Veyra noted, tilting her head to the side. "Why would you be acting so nervous if you truly have nothing to hide from us?"
Xiomara opened her mouth to snap back, then closed it tight. She opened it again, her jaw working up and down, but not a single sound came out of her throat.
Veyra turned her attention back to Professor Sterling, who was staring at her like she was a ghost.
"About a year ago," Veyra continued, her voice dropping into a solemn tone, "there was a violent murder case. A whole family of six people. They were all killed right inside their own home. There were no witnesses, no obvious break-in signs, and zero prime suspects. Eventually, the case went completely cold."
Professor Sterling set his jaw, his eyes narrowing into tight slits. "What does a cold murder case have to do with anything happening in this room?"
"I managed to get my hands on the case file," Veyra said softly. "I read the full autopsy reports. I looked over the toxicology screens." She paused, letting her words sink in. "The exact chemical ingredients of SP-117 were never publicly disclosed anywhere. Yet those exact chemical markers were present in the bloodwork of every single one of those six victims."
Professor Sterling’s face went even paler, looking like he might faint right on the spot.
"You developed SP-117 in your lab," Veyra said, taking a small step closer to him. "You tested it secretly on them. And once you realized that it actually worked, you just couldn’t stop yourself."
The room plunged into total, heavy silence.
Xiomara’s voice came out as a barely audible whisper, her eyes wide with horror. "That is not true... none of that is true."
"It is completely true," Veyra said, glancing at her with cold eyes. "And deep down, you already know it."
Veyra turned to look at Wesley, keeping her stance steady and composed.
"SP-117 is the real deal," she said plainly. "It forces total honesty, and it cannot be faked or fought off. If Professor Sterling actually injects both me and Xiomara with a dose right now, everyone in this room will instantly know who is telling the truth."
Xiomara’s face went completely ghostly white again.
"No!" Xiomara blurted out, taking a frantic step backward. "No, absolute not! I am not letting anyone inject me with anything!"
Veyra looked over at her, her voice smooth and curious. "Why not? If you have nothing to hide, what are you so afraid of?"
"Because..." Xiomara’s eyes darted wildly around the room, desperately looking for an excuse. "Because I have a phobia of needles! I’ve always been deathly afraid of needles!"
Veyra raised her eyebrows in mock surprise. "You are afraid of needles?"
"Yes! I am!"
"That is funny," Veyra said, her voice dry. "You certainly didn’t look afraid of needles when you got all those fresh Botox injections in your face last month."
Xiomara’s cheeks instantly flushed a dark, violent red. "That is completely different!"
"How exactly is it different?"
"Because..." Xiomara stopped dead in her tracks. She bit her lip hard, completely unable to find a believable answer.
Veyra offered her a small, bitter smile. "That is exactly what I thought."
Veyra turned back to face Wesley again.
"SP-117 is a heavily restricted, prohibited substance," she said. "Are you capable of getting your hands on a vial?"
Wesley’s dark eyes glittered with sudden amusement and power. "I can get my hands on anything in this city."
"Then get us a dose of this," Veyra said.
Wesley gave a single, sharp nod and pulled his phone straight out of his jacket pocket. "I will have a fresh dose delivered right here to this desk within half an hour."
Professor Sterling suddenly stumbled forward a step, his voice loud and panicked.
"Wait! Stop!"
Wesley paused, holding his thumb right over the call button, looking up at the old professor with a raised brow.
Professor Sterling stood there with a ghostly white face, his whole body visibly shaking under the pressure.
"You don’t need to make that phone call," the professor said softly, his voice cracking with embarrassment.
Veyra tilted her head slightly. "And why shouldn’t he?"
"Because..." Professor Sterling choked on his own words. He looked over at Xiomara, then at Veyra, and finally dropped his eyes down to stare blankly at the floor.
His broad shoulders sagged as all the pride drained right out of him.
"Because the audio recording is real," he confessed, his voice barely above a whisper. "I knew deep down that it was real the entire time. I was just desperately trying to protect her reputation."
Xiomara’s jaw dropped open in complete shock. "Professor..."
"Don’t say another word, Xiomara," his voice sounded terribly old and exhausted. "I have been covering up your mess for years now. I am completely done doing it."
Xiomara’s voice suddenly turned sharp and shrill. "The recording is an AI creation! She faked the entire thing! She is just trying to ruin my life and destroy me!"
Professor Sterling shook his head back and forth slowly. "It is not an AI voice, Xiomara. I recognized your voice the exact moment I heard the playback. I just didn’t want to admit to myself that you could be that vicious."
"Professor, please! You have to listen to me!"
"Stop it!" His voice snapped sharply through the room, full of rage and shame. "You lied straight to my face. You used my position to fight your battles. You made me stand here and look like an absolute fool in front of Wesley Wynn!"
Xiomara stood there totally frozen, her skin pale and her hands trembling at her sides.
"I am so sorry..." she whimpered out, tears finally spilling down her face.
"Sorry does not fix any of this," Sterling said coldly, turning his back on her.
Xiomara’s eyes were completely wet and bloodshot. She opened her mouth to plead one more time, but her voice failed her completely, no words coming out.
Veyra quietly turned away from the mess and walked over to Dorian’s side.
Without saying a single word, she gently looped her arm through his, letting her small fingers curl tightly around the soft fabric of his jacket sleeve.
Dorian’s entire body went rigid the second she touched him. His breath hitched in his chest, pulling in a sudden, sharp gasp of air.
Veyra didn’t seem to notice his shock. Her focus was still completely locked onto Professor Sterling.
"You owe me a real apology," Veyra said, her voice steady and firm. "And more importantly, you owe my husband a deep apology. You marched into this room with an attitude. You defended a liar without checking the facts. You openly attacked my character, and you threw around wild threats."
Professor Sterling kept his eyes glued to the floor, his face devoid of color. "I was wrong."
"You were far more than just wrong," Veyra corrected him sharply. "You were cruel and arrogant."
Professor Sterling said nothing back, accepting the harsh words in complete silence.
Veyra held her ground, her stance proud. "I expect real justice for both myself and my husband before this day is over."
Beside her, Dorian was still completely frozen in place, standing as still as a statue. Her arm felt warm and reassuring pressed against his side, and the weight of her light fingers on his sleeve felt oddly heavy.
He honestly had no idea what to do with the strange sensation blooming in his chest.
Veyra gave his arm a gentle, reassuring squeeze.
Dorian slowly lowered his head to look down at her. She wasn’t looking back at him yet; her gaze was still fixed directly on Professor Sterling, her expression completely calm, cool, and composed.
Yet her hand remained firmly resting on his arm.
And Dorian stood there in silence, his heart hammering against his ribs, having absolutely no idea how he was supposed to react to her touch.