Janice appears in the doorway, flushed. “It’s the front desk,” she whispers. “They’ve had five calls already. Press pretending to be parents, asking for comment.”
My stomach knots.
“How would they even know where I work?”
She hesitates. “It’s all over the gossip blogs. Someone leaked it.”
“Oh my god.”
I excuse myself and head to the staff break room, grabbing my phone.
Missed calls. Voicemails. A few texts from Liam warning me not to Google myself. And several from Ash.
Footsteps echo in the hallway—quick, purposeful.
Then a voice.
“Miss Hart, can I see you in my office, please?”
The words hit like a hammer. The principal—Mrs. Dinsmore—is standing at the door, lips pursed so tight they’ve practically disappeared. Her expression is polite, practiced… and chilly.
I murmur follow her down the hallway like I’m on my way to detention.
Her office smells like lemon disinfectant and judgment.
She doesn’t ask me to sit. Just closes the door, turns, and fixes me with a look.
“I’ll be direct, Miss Hart.”
Here it comes.
“This is a school. Not a tabloid set. We cannot have paparazzi loitering outside the gates and frightening parents.”
“I didn’t ask for any of this,” I say quietly, pulse hammering. “I didn’t invite the press.”
“That may be true.” Her eyes flicker with something—sympathy, maybe—but it vanishes fast. “Regardless, the disruption is unacceptable. I’ve had complaints. Parents are worried. Some are threatening to pull their children if this becomes ongoing.”
I swallow hard. “But I’ve done nothing wrong.”
“This isn’t aboutwrong,Olive.” The use of my first name doesn’t soften it—it makes it worse. “It’s about optics. Safety. Reputation. Until things calm down, I think it’s best that you… take some time.”
My mouth falls open. “You’re suspending me?”
“A precautionary leave. Until further notice.”
Her tone is smooth. Controlled. Like this is a business transaction and not my life unraveling.
“You can’t be serious.”
Her lips press together again. “You’re a wonderful teacher. Truly. But you’re also nowengaged to a celebrity,and like it or not, that means the media will follow. We need to be realistic about how that affects our school.”
She reaches for a folder on her desk, but I barely register it. My vision goes hot and blurry. I keep it together just long enough to grab my tote bag and personal things. What about the kids? I’m going to miss them so much. But I’m instructed not to say goodbye. Just leave—quietly, immediately.
Outside, Ash is waiting beside his sleek, jet-black car, like he’s stepped off a movie set. How did he know to come here? How did he know I’d need someone in my corner? But he did. And he came. Gratitude swells in my chest, threatening to spill over.
Reporters swarm the sidewalk, cameras flashing, voices shouting. And Ash? He’s calm. Steady. A wall between me and the chaos.
His eyes lock on mine.
