“She just passed it to him—and Theo slid it straight to me.” Luke flipped to the next printout. “The text came with photos—straight from Tori. Enough to prove Elise doctored the thread.” He looked up. “Sloppy. But enough to blow a hole in her story.”
My knees went loose, so I braced them against the chair’s seat. “So the school?—”
“Has enough to slow-roll. They won’t pull the trigger on you while this is in review.” He watched my face as if gauging where to put the next word. “And I can take this up the chain if they stall.”
He could. He would. The realization hit with heat and cold. The King name opened more doors than just those in their wing of the hospital. They could buy attention to whatever issue, or desired outcomes, they wanted.
Relief hit hard enough that I had to sit. The chair wobbled once and then held.
He dropped to a knee in front of me, folder still open, proof fanned out between us. “You okay?”
“No.” A fractured laugh slipped out and caught on a breath that wasn’t steady yet. “But you being here helps.”
His mouth curved, not all the way to a smile. He leaned in, forehead brushing mine, breath warm. He didn’t have to say anything. The contact said enough.
Footsteps passed in the hall. Somebody rattled a locker door. A muted cheer rose from the far end of campus—game-day pep in the quad. The school kept moving while my world reassembled in slow clicks.
He pulled back just enough to look me in the eye. “We go public and expose Elise on our terms.”
“What does that even look like?”
“Proof first. Then pressure.” He straightened, pulled out his phone, and swiped. “Theo handed it to me. I’ve already locked copies with people Principal Miller can’t ignore. He knows she forged this. If they try to pin it on you again, it blows back on them.”
“And Elise?”
“She’s got a stage to play on—expects to be queen.” His eyes cooled, that metallic shift I’d only ever seen when his family name got pulled in. “Let her walk in thinking she still owns the room.”
“The fundraising committee?”
“Assembly run-through in the gym. Donors’ preview after.” He slid the folder back into his bag, movements precise. “You’ll be there. She will too. And so will I.”
A knot I hadn’t known I was holding loosened at that last piece. “Avery?”
“Home. Jax is taking her then going back for practice. He wanted to stay with her after all she’d been through yesterday and last night, but she told him no. Not to miss practice.”
My chest pinched at the soft steel in that. “Chase?”
“He’ll show. We warned him. He’s holding it together.”
None of this erased the feeling of being dragged under in the office, my chance at college blowing up in my face. But it gave me something to hold on to before I drowned. I stood. My legs held. “Okay.”
Luke’s gaze scanned my face once more, a sweep that hit every tell. He lifted a hand and brushed his thumb along my cheek, brief, then dropped it. “Armor up.”
I squared my shoulders, stood straight, and slipped my game face on all the way from the classroom to the gym.
The gym had been dressed to impress for the run-through of gala event information sharing. Banners hung crisp against the far wall. The new scoreboard glowed. A scaffold of lights sprouted along the edges for the assembly—soft amber bulbs meant to mimic the gala’s mood lighting when the real donors’ event hit off-campus. It was to raise awareness, and the faculty thought this was the best place to do it, even though the gala event would be held elsewhere.
Students milled in their assigned roles for the mock event—ushers with badges, check-in kids clutching clipboards, decor committee fussing over centerpieces no one would remember. Principal Miller tapped the mic on the portable stage while the gala adviser sorted note cards.
Elise walked in just late enough to be noticed but not to be called out. White dress too polished for a gym. Hair perfect. Diamonds catching the lights. No binder in her hand. She didn’t need one. Her eyes found me and brightened as though she’d been waiting for the moment.
I held her stare the way you regard a yard with an untethered dog—calm, still, ready to move if it lunged.
The guys filed in together, Chase a step behind, Theo peeling off from a group near the bleachers to slot in at Jax’s side. Tori slid onto the lower bleachers and didn’t look at anyone. She stared at her phone. Her thumb didn’t move.
Principal Miller clapped twice for attention. Feedback squealed then settled. The run-through started—a staged version of opening night mixed with a pep talk for the student body, meant to raise awareness for the fundraiser and recruitvolunteers for future ones. Welcome remarks, sponsors shout-outs, and a parade of committee leads taking turns at the mic. Each thanked donors and highlighted “opportunities” the gala provided—every line carefully phrased for a résumé.
On cue, I did my part. Walked a mock donor from the “entrance” at the double doors to the check-in table, handed them an imaginary packet, sent them toward the VIP section. Smile. Thank you. Next. I didn’t think about the office. I thought about the folder in Luke’s bag and the proof waiting to blow back in Elise’s face.
