A polished woman in pearls who once introduced herself as “fundraising chair.”
They all stand when I enter.
Fake.
Fake.
Fake.
We sit.
The biggest lawyer clears his throat.
“Miss Bryan,” he starts, “Royal Oaks Prep would like to resolve this matter peacefully. We are prepared to offer you a settlement.”
Then he slides a paper across the long table.
I glance at it.
Six figures.
My heart jerks.
Because for a second, for a microscopic beat— that number means safety.
College security.
A new car.
Aunt Susan’s house needs a new roof.
Tristan mutters low beside me, “Damn, girl.”
The lawyer continues, smug now that he assumes he has me.
“This offer includes a nondisclosure agreement. You will refrain from further public discussion of the incident. No more social media posts abut any of it. In return, the school will protect your enrollment and ensure a smooth remainder of your academic year.”
Translation:
Take our hush money and disappear quietly.
I sit back.
Take a breath.
Feel something old and something new rise inside me at the same time.
“I’m not taking it,” I say.
The room freezes.
“Excuse me?” Pearl Lady whispers.
“You heard me.”
The head lawyer sits forward, eyebrows up. “Jade, we understand you’re emotional, but?—”
“No,” I cut in. My voice stays steady. “You can’t buy me back.”
