Chapter Twenty-Two #2
“From Luke,” Mila answered.
That was the first visible crack in the room. The room understood the implication. Elise’s composure held.
Then Tori stood. Her hands trembled once before steadying. “I would like to add something,” she began quietly. Her voice was not loud, but it carried.
“Elise told me my father’s contracts were vulnerable. That people with influence can make work disappear. That it doesn’t take much to destabilize a small business.”
The guidance counselor’s head lifted.
Tori swallowed. “She implied that admissions committees become nervous when families experience instability.”
Silence expanded. The assistant headmaster’s expression hardened. “Do you have these messages?”
“Yes.”
She placed printed copies on the table.
The faculty member on the left scanned them quickly, her posture stiffening.
Elise’s composure fractured—not dramatically but perceptibly. Her shoulders drew back a fraction too quickly. “That was advice,” she replied coolly. “I was offering perspective on how the world functions.”
“You were threatening her family’s financial security,” Theo said from behind me, voice low.
The assistant headmaster raised a hand. “You will refrain from interjecting.”
Theo inclined his head once.
Chase’s tight hold on his anger cracked, and he rose abruptly. “You’ll answer for this, Elise.” His voice was dark and controlled in a way that felt far more dangerous than shouting.
Avery’s composure faltered then. Just slightly. She turned toward him. “I didn’t want this to become a war,” she answered. “I thought I could handle it.”
Chase’s jaw clenched. “You’re not supposed to handle it alone.”
The assistant headmaster cleared her throat. “This is not the forum for familial conflict.”
It already was.
Then the door opened. The air shifted before anyone turned. Charles Dunn entered without haste. His suit was tailored perfectly. His expression composed, assessing.
He didn’t look at Elise first. That told me everything. Instead, he turned toward the administrators. “Apologies for my delay,” he began smoothly. “I was informed that this hearing involved my daughter.”
His gaze moved over the documents spread across the table. He didn’t ask what had occurred.
The assistant headmaster inclined her head. “We’re reviewing documentation regarding coordinated harassment and intimidation.”
“Unfortunate,” Dunn replied. “Adolescent conflict often escalates beyond proportion.”
It was a reframing.
He didn’t deny the messages or try to defend them. He minimized their category.
Tori stiffened. Mila remained still.
“With respect,” the assistant headmaster responded, “these communications extend beyond typical adolescent disputes.”
Dunn’s gaze sharpened fractionally. “And what outcome is being sought?”
“Suspension, at the very least, pending review,” she answered. “Removal from leadership positions.”
Across the table, I watched recognition move through his expression. The repetition was too structured to dismiss entirely. He could protect his daughter. Or he could protect his name. He chose the latter.
“If my daughter’s presence has contributed to instability,” he said evenly, “we will comply with administrative measures while a thorough review is conducted.”
Elise’s head jerked toward him.
He didn’t look at her. His gaze remained fixed on the assistant headmaster. Control. Damage mitigation.
Chase wrapped an arm around Avery’s shoulders. She didn’t resist.
The hearing concluded with formal language. Elise would be suspended pending investigation. Removed from committees. Temporarily sidelined. Not expelled. Not destroyed.
Dunn ensured that.
The parents were asked to stay, while we were dismissed. We stood. Chairs scraped softly against the floor.
As Elise gathered her things, she didn’t plead her case, but she did turn toward me. Her expression had changed. Not defeated. She was strategizing.
Dunn rested a hand briefly on her shoulder. His eyes lifted and met mine. This wasn’t about school anymore.
Outside the room, the hallway felt narrower. The door closed behind us with a quiet click that sounded far louder than it should have.
Jax’s hand rested on Avery’s lower back. He hadn’t let go of her once. Theo stood beside Tori without speaking, his presence solid.
For a moment, no one moved. Then Chase turned to Avery, and he pulled her into a tight embrace with something fractured in his expression that I had never seen before.
“You should’ve told me.” His voice broke. “I knew something was wrong, but not who was causing you pain. I would’ve done something, Aves.”
“I’m telling you now.” Her voice was muffled against his shoulder.
“I thought you were just… off,” he continued, voice tightening. “I thought it was something stupid. Not someone breaking you.”
“It was real,” she replied softly.
He flinched. “That’s not what I meant.”
“I know.”
Silence stretched.
“I was right there. Every day. And I didn’t see it.”
Avery’s expression grew tired. “That was the point. It wasn’t one thing. It was just… constant.”
He swallowed. “She made you feel insignificant.”
“Yes.”
“And I did nothing.”
“You didn’t know,” she said quickly.
“That’s worse.”
Chase had always been protective. Sometimes to a fault. But this was different. This wasn’t about stepping in to fight someone. This was about failing to recognize a slow unraveling.
Avery stepped closer this time. “You couldn’t have fixed it by punching someone,” she said quietly.
He almost laughed, but it came out hollow. “Don’t assume I would’ve stopped at that.”
“I know,” she replied.
He stared at her, hurt cutting through anger. “You didn’t trust me.”
“Things just… escalated. Compounded. I spiraled and didn’t know how to ask for help.”
His hands flexed at his sides. “You thought I’d make it worse.”
Chase had always responded first, thought second. It was part of what made him loyal. It was also part of what made him dangerous. He stepped forward and pulled her into him abruptly.
His arms wrapped around her shoulders and held tight enough to feel like an apology.
She stiffened for half a second before melting into it.
“I’m sorry,” he murmured into her hair. “I’m sorry I didn’t see your pain or what you were going through.”
Her hands fisted in the back of his shirt. “I didn’t want you to see it,” she admitted. “I didn’t want to look weak.”
“You’re not weak.” He pulled back just enough to look at her. “Don’t ever think you can’t come to me with anything. I’m your twin. If you leave, you’re taking part of me too, and I couldn’t survive without you.”
Avery’s composure slipped then, just enough for her eyes to gloss over. “I’m sorry.”
Behind them, Tori shifted closer to Theo. He wrapped his arm around her shoulders without hesitation, steadying. “You should’ve told me too,” he said gently.
Tori’s voice was quiet. “I didn’t know who would believe me.”
Theo’s jaw clenched, but he didn’t react explosively. “We believe you. All of us.”
Jax exhaled slowly and folded Avery into his embrace after Chase released her.
I laced my fingers through Mila’s. Her grip was firm. Resolved.
Down the hall, Charles Dunn escorted Elise toward her locker. Our conversation cut off as we tracked them.
They stopped at her locker as she opened it. Charles’s voice wasn’t overly loud, but it cracked like a whip nonetheless. “Clean it out.”
“Why? I’ll be back.”
“I didn’t ask for information. I gave you an order.”
Elise’s lips pressed into a tight line, her shoulders locking with humiliation as we watched. Her dad didn’t offer any other words—just turned on his heels once she’d finished, expecting her to fall in line behind him as he left the building.
She didn’t look back again.
But that wasn’t the end of it. The war hadn’t ended. If anything, it had escalated.
We’d won the room by exposing the behavior. But as Charles Dunn and Elise walked out, and the administrators closed their files behind us, I understood something with absolute clarity.
We had just stepped onto a much larger board—and the players weren’t confined to hallways.