That was all I needed.
When I got home, Lydia was still smug, lounging like a queen. She smirked, “Did you learn your lesson yet?”
I smiled back. “Yes, Lydia. I did.”
What she didn’t know was that I’d already installed a discreet nanny cam in the living room weeks earlier — to keep an eye on my things whenever she visited. That very night, I reviewed the footage. And there it was, clear as day: Lydia creeping into my room at midnight, unlocking my phone (I had shown her my passcode once when she “needed to make a call”), and changing my alarm. Then she placed the phone back and walked out, grinning.
The next day, I handed the footage to my professor. He was shocked, but also furious on my behalf. Within hours, he filed an official report with the university board. By the end of the week, I had permission to retake the exam — with faculty supervision.
But I wasn’t done.
At dinner that night, in front of my husband and Lydia, I dropped the bomb.
Me: “Oh, by the way, thank you for making me late to my exam. The university board loved your little performance on camera.”
