Chapter 21
Jul 4, 2025
I get the summons during third period. A white envelope with a gold seal slides across my desk like a warning shot. My fingers tremble as I open it, even though I already know. It’s from the Headmistress. I don’t read the rest. I just stand, ignoring the whispers behind me, and walk toward the office like I’m marching to a firing squad.
Every step feels heavier than the last. The hallway seems longer. My heart is pounding, but my body is cold. I grip the letter in my hand so tightly it crinkles, like holding it harder might change the words. But I know what this is.
A formality. A curtain over the guillotine. My scholarship is “under review.” Translation? I’m no longer a prize. I’m a problem.
The receptionist barely looks up when I arrive. Just gestures toward the double doors. I push them open, and there he is.
My father.
Already standing. Arms crossed. Jaw clenched so tight I can see the muscle twitching beneath his skin. He doesn’t even acknowledge me with a nod.
The dean is sitting behind her desk, hands folded carefully, like she’s trying to project calm over chaos.
“Juliet,” she says gently, “thank you for coming.”
I nod once and sit in the empty chair across from them. My mother is beside him. Her purse clutched in both hands, knuckles pale, eyes cast down toward the carpet. Like looking at me would make this worse. Or maybe harder.
The dean clears her throat. “There’s been… concern regarding the recent leak. We understand you were a victim—”
“She’s not staying,” my father interrupts, voice sharp as a blade. “We’ll arrange a homeschool tutor. Immediately.”
I flinch.
The dean tries to reason with him. “She hasn’t broken any formal rules. And she’s maintained her academic standing—”
“She’s tainted the Alden name,” he snaps. “Do you know how many calls I’ve received this week? Board members. Donors. Parents demanding to know what kind of institution lets a scandal like this walk their halls.”
“I didn’t ask for this to happen,” I whisper. My voice is so soft I’m not even sure it leaves my throat. “It wasn’t my fault.”
He scoffs. “You posed for those photos, didn’t you?”
“I didn’t mean for them to be—”
“Enough,” he says, cold and final. “We’re done pretending this hasn’t ruined everything.”
I feel small. Like a shadow of myself. I try to breathe through it. Try to sit tall. But my spine feels like it’s collapsing under his disappointment.
“She’s one of our brightest students,” the dean says, gently but firmly. “She deserves—”
“She’s done,” he growls. “This isn’t a discussion.”
“She’s our daughter,” my mother says, finally. Her voice is brittle. Thin. “She needs us.”
But she doesn’t say it to him. She doesn’t say it to me. It’s like she’s saying it to the floor. A quiet prayer she already knows won’t be answered.
I look between them. The people who raised me. Who taught me how to tie my shoes and read bedtime stories. Now they won’t even meet my eyes.
“Say something,” I whisper to my mom. “Please.”
But she doesn’t.
She just lowers her head further.
The Headmistress opens her mouth again, but my father raises a hand to silence her.
“We’ll send someone to collect her things.”
I want to scream. I want to cry. I want to defend myself. But the words are stuck. Lodged somewhere between my throat and my heart. I can’t pull them out. I can’t find my voice.
And suddenly, I feel like I’m watching someone else. Another girl in another life. A girl who flew too close to something she thought was love and got burned so badly she can’t even recognize her reflection anymore.
I keep hoping someone will stop this. That someone in this room will remember who I used to be. Who I still am underneath all the shame.
But no one does. Not my mother. Not my father. Not even me.
So I nod. Just once. Barely a movement. But it’s enough. I fold. For now.
