“Of course there is.”
“He sent an anonymous complaint three days later.”
“About me?”
“Your thesis.”
My voice disappeared.
“What did he say?”
“That portions of your research may contain proprietary corporate information.”
My knees weakened.
If the university had believed that, my defense could have been delayed.
My degree could have been withheld.
Until after age thirty?
I did not know.
But perhaps my father had hoped.
“He tried to stop me from graduating.”
“That’s what it looks like.”
I sat down.
For several minutes neither of us spoke.
Finally Ingrid said:
“Our legal team reviewed the complaint and found it baseless.
Your sources were public and properly documented.”
I covered my face.
My parents had not merely skipped my graduation.
They had not merely lied about me.
They had actively attempted to manufacture the failure they later announced.
I called Nathaniel.
He listened.
Then said:
“Do not confront them alone.”
