Racheal stood motionless, her arms folded loosely across her chest, but her mind refused to be still. Margaret's words swirled around her like a storm, tangling with the doubts and anger she had carried for so long.
All this time, she had despised Mr. Unknown. She had painted him as the villain in her story—heartless, arrogant, and obsessed with nothing but himself. Every encounter with him seemed to confirm it. She had told herself he enjoyed watching her struggle, that he only ever appeared to remind her of her weakness.
But now… a single thread of truth was beginning to unravel everything she thought she knew.
Her chest tightened as she remembered the night the video had spread. The shame, the whispers, the way her world had nearly collapsed in a single moment. And yet… someone had helped her. Not openly, not with words of comfort, but in a way that truly mattered—removing traces of the video before it could destroy her completely.
Her breath caught. Could it really have been him? The same person I hated with every fiber of my being?
Margaret shifted uncomfortably, her fingers twisting at the hem of her blouse. She glanced at Racheal's unreadable face and her voice quivered.
"Racheal, please… say something. You've been so quiet, and it scares me. I know I've wronged you, and I don't expect forgiveness in a day, but your silence—" she broke off, her throat tightening.
Racheal finally lifted her gaze, her eyes sharp but shaken. She spoke slowly, each word heavy.
"Who is Mr. Collins?"
Margaret's mouth opened, but no sound came at first. She looked down, fighting with herself, before forcing the truth out.
"He's the guy who helped you… when the video circulated."
For a moment, time seemed to freeze.
Racheal's heartbeat thundered in her ears. Her fingers tightened around her notebook as if she needed something solid to anchor her. She stared at Margaret, searching for a hint of a lie, but all she saw was sincerity.
Her lips parted in shock, her voice barely more than a whisper.
"What?"
Margaret took a shaky breath. "Don't you know Mr. Collins?"
Racheal's brows arched, her tone sharp as she snapped back.
"If I knew, do you really think I would have asked you?"
Margaret flinched at the sting in her words but steadied herself. "I—I didn't mean it like that. It's just… he's always been around, watching in his own quiet way. You only ever saw the side he wanted you to see, Racheal. But when the video spread, he was the one who stepped in, silently cleaning the mess without seeking credit."
Racheal's breath hitched, her mind racing faster than her heart. If what Margaret was saying was true, then everything she thought about Mr. Unknown—about Collins—was about to shatter.