Her brows lifted slightly. Not shocked—just listening. “Do you want to be silent?”
“No.” The word shot out like a spark. “Hell, no.”
“Tell me why.”
“Because I deserve justice,” I said, sitting up straighter, heat rising up my neck. “Not hush money. Not a bribe. Not a shiny check stapled to a non-disclosure agreement that lets them pretend nothing happened.”
She watched me, steady, patient.
“They’re offering to cover ‘damages,’” I said bitterly, using air quotes. “Like this is some broken window they can fix with a trip to Home Depot. Like money can patch over the last two years of my life.”
I laughed—a hollow, angry sound.
“How much are my junior and senior years worth?” I asked quietly. “How much should I charge for being humiliated online? For being stalked, threatened, slandered? For having my face photoshopped onto bodies that weren’t mine?”
My hands balled into fists in my lap.
“What about my pride? My tears?” My voice wavered. “My hair they poured dye all over? The panic attacks? The nightmares? The way I can’t walk across campus without looking over my shoulder or scanning every screen for my name?”
A tear slid down my cheek before I could stop it. I wiped it away fast, annoyed at myself.
“I can’t put a price tag on anxiety,” I whispered. “On trust I can’t get back. On the way I still flinch when a guy walks too close behind me.”
Dr. Baer set down her pen gently, like every word I said weighed something.
“You want accountability,” she said.
“I want truth,” I corrected, voice sharp as glass. “And I want it loud. Public. Real. I want every single person who hurt me to feel the consequences—not hide behind generational wealth or connections or fancy lawyers.”
“Then why does the settlement bother you the most?” she asked softly.
“Because it feels like they’re trying to turn me into a problem they can pay off,” I said. “A headline they can bury. A girl they can buy.”
“And you’re not?”
I lifted my chin. “I’m not.”
Silence again—but this time it settled warm around me, not cold.
“For the record,” Dr. Baer said, “you don’t have to take the settlement. You don’t have to be silent. And you don’t have to let them define the price of your pain.”
My throat tightened. “But if I don’t take it… everything gets public. Messy. Loud. The court cases will drag on for months. Maybe years. And Kannon might rethink being associated with me. And colleges could… I don’t know. Retract things.”
“And Leo?” she asked quietly.
I looked away. “Leo’s already complicated as hell.”
“Then let’s keep the focus on you.”
I nodded, though part of me felt split between past trauma and future choices.
“Jade,” she said, folding her hands. “You’re standing on a fault line between who you were and who you’re becoming. Being silent… might keep things neat. But speaking up?” She held my gaze. “Speaking up is how you shake the earth.”
And damn it… something in me cracked open.
Not broken.
Just—waking up.
