“This morning,” Sam continues, “before you came over… I received a call from the city’s licensing office.”
That pulls the air in the room tightagain.
“They’re reviewing the youth center,” he says. “It’s not just a routine check—they’ve launched a full compliance audit. They’re digging into everything: your policies, the board’s structure, how decisions are made, and even the smallest details of your funding sources and how every dollar is spent. They want to see whether you’re following every regulation to the letter. If there’s any gap, they’ll use it against you.”
I don’t react immediately. I already know.
“They contacted you?” Luke asks sharply.
“Yes. They asked whether the development partnership between Donovan and me has any financial crossover with Andi’s trust.”
Luke turns to me. “You told me they came by yesterday.”
“They did,” I say evenly. “She said she was with Community Oversight. She wore a gray suit and carried a clipboard instead of a laptop. She was polite to the point of being rude. She was very thorough.”
“And now they’re investigating the center’s licensing,” Sam says quietly. “That’s even more escalation.”
Linda finally sits. “What does that mean?”
“It means,” I answer, “they’re evaluating whether I should be allowed to maintain operational authority.”
The impact of my words lingers, heavy and unspoken.
“Operational authority over what?” Linda presses.
“Minors,” Luke says before I can.
Deafening silence fills the room.
Sam leans forward slowly. “They asked whether you’ve disclosed your juvenile record to the board.”
“I don’t have a board,” I say.
“That’s a problem,” he replies.
I meet his eyes. “It wasn’t until now.”
Luke’s jaw tightens. “They can’t remove you without cause.”
“They don’t need cause,” I answer. “They need optics. A politically connected complaint. A narrative about instability. A suggestion that supervision is required for me to be around vulnerable minors.”
Linda’s hand moves to her throat. “They think you’re dangerous.”
“Yes.” The word doesn’t shake me. I’ve heard it before.
Sam exhales long and slow. “If they initiate temporary administrative suspension…”
“I’m barred from direct interaction until their review concludes,” I finish.
Luke’s hand finally closes around mine. Not possessive. Not romantic. Grounding.
“He’s not just protecting himself,” Luke says. “He’s building a case to discredit you before you ever speak publicly.”
“And to isolate me,” I add.
Because if I’m removed from the youth center, if I’m labeled unstable around children, then any testimony I give about abuse becomes contaminated.
It’s personal, underhanded, and pure evil. And it’s deliberate. But I refuse to let it break me. If he thinks this is the end of my story, he’s mistaken. I am already working on my next move, gathering allies and collecting proof, determined that this time, I will not be outmaneuvered. However quietly or slowly my defense needs to build,
