The University of Virginia did not recover quietly.

By the time University Unity Day ended, the students were no longer networking properly. They were researching.

Not politely either.

Not with the dignified curiosity of future lawyers.

No, they were doing it the way scandal-fed students always did—hunched over phones in expensive hallways, whispering in clusters, gasping at search results, sending screenshots into group chats, and developing conspiracy theories with the speed and confidence of people who had never once let the truth stop a good rumor.

It started with Sam’s rings.

Then the property calls.

Then the phrase five law firms.

And by the time the Winchester family returned to the Virginia penthouse that evening, half the law students, a dangerous number of alumni, and at least three professors had already gone down the rabbit hole.

The Winchester empire, it turned out, was far worse online.

Because in person, people could still try to believe the family was too polished, too pretty, too theatrical to be real.

But the internet?

The internet had records.

And the records were rude.

At first, Sam’s classmates found the obvious things.

The business names.

The polished websites.

The branding.

The legal listings.

The Lantern & Ledger looked elegant online in the same way it did in person—warm lighting, perfect pastries, rich coffee photography, tasteful event announcements, and the kind of menu design that made people feel underdressed just looking at it.