My stomach sank. I'd hoped he'd tell me I was overreacting. That I was being paranoid. Instead, he was confirming my worst fear.
"Pack your things," he said. "You're coming straight home to Westlake Hills, and closing this place until this is resolved."
"What? No." I straightened, arms crossing defensively. "I can't close. The Texas Star Pageant is next weekend."
"Princess—"
"My students are depending on me, Daddy. Addison, Harper, all of them have been preparing for months. Parents have paid thousands for coaching, dresses, talent training." My voice rose. "This is my life's work. I'm building strong young women, helping them become tomorrow's leaders. They're counting on me. Don't you think that's important?"
"Someone put a brick through your window—"
"Someone might have put a brick through my window. We don't know for sure they're connected." I stepped closer, desperate for him to understand. "If I close now and word gets out about why, parents will panic. They'll pull their daughters permanently. My business will be destroyed. Everything I've built will be gone. I won't abandon those girls when they need me most."
My father's expression softened. He'd never been able to say no when I dug in my heels. Not when I was six and insisted on wearing that ridiculous feathered outfit for my first pageant. Not when I was eighteen and chose to stay in Texas instead of moving to New York for modeling opportunities. Not now.
He sighed. "Fine. But I'm calling Gray Calhoun."
"Who?"
"Old friend. We go way back—served on some boards together years ago. He runs Lone Star Security now." My father was already pulling out his phone. "He'll assign someone to protect you."
"I don't need a bodyguard. This could all be coincidence. What if I'm overreacting?"
"Do you really believe that?" His gaze locked on mine.
I opened my mouth to say yes. To insist I did. But the words wouldn't come.
"I don't know," I whispered finally. "Maybe? Probably not? I just... I don't want to make a big deal out of nothing."
"Better to be cautious and wrong than careless and sorry." His voice gentled. "What if these incidents are connected? What if whoever did this knows where you live? What if this escalates?"
The fear I'd been holding at bay all evening crashed over me. "But what will I tell everyone? How do I explain a bodyguard following me everywhere? If parents find out I'm being threatened—even if I'm not sure I am—they'll panic. They'll pull their daughters anyway."
My father waved his hand dismissively, already dialing. "Tell everyone he's your boyfriend. Visiting from out of town or something. You two can figure out the cover story details—Gray's people are professionals at this sort of thing."
He turned away before I could protest further.
"Hello, Gray? Dan Danforth! Haven't talked in years, buddy, but I need a favor. My daughter's gotten herself into a situation..."
I stood in my destroyed studio, glass crunching under my heels, and tried to process what had just happened.
A bodyguard. Posing as my boyfriend. Starting tonight.
Because I couldn't be sure. Because what if I was wrong? Because I'd rather seem paranoid than risk my students' safety.
My father finished his call, squeezed my shoulder. "Gray's sending his best operative. Rhodes Foster—former Marine, been with LSS for four years. He'll be at your house by eight tonight."
"Tonight? But—"
"Let me call the emergency glass repair service. Even if they can't do the permanent fix tonight, they can at least get this boarded up until tomorrow morning." He was already dialing. "Then I'm following you home and waiting with you until Rhodes arrives."
My father spoke to the glass company, explained the situation, got confirmation they'd send someone within the hour. We sat in my office—away from the destroyed window—while we waited.
The repair crew arrived twenty minutes later. Two men with plywood and tools who had the window secured in under thirty minutes.
"We'll be back first thing tomorrow morning—seven AM—to replace the glass," the crew chief told me. "Whole job should take about forty-five minutes. You'll be good to go before you open for business."
"Thank you," I managed.
