WOODY'S POV

  Lily had given me their names earlier. All I had to do was find their birther—that is—daddy. I had texted the names over to Jorge earlier—my PA—and he was able to get their last names. Now I can get on to finding their dads.

  Madison had messaged me about how they failed to do anything about the matter and just gave a simple detention. Well—not on my watch.

  I stared at it longer than I needed to, phone in one hand, coffee in the other. My eyes drifted up from the car staring at the background large garden of the school. She would usually sit there before she headed on to her next class—which—of course—I knew where her classroom was. I couldn't really see her, but I didn't need to. I already knew her schedule.

  Tuesdays, she had Chemistry after lunch. Room 2B. Mr. Daniels, but she needed to skip today to get all the stress out of her head from earlier that day.

  I watched as Madison and her mom—with Lily—all went to their car to head home. I sighed before driving off to work.

  I entered my office—leaving every work behind as I grabbed my phone to do the needful.

  Trina Braxton. Kathy Tolu. Poppy Rivera. Those were the ones I needed to worry about, the last one isn't relevant, just a useless name. It doesn't have weight like these other three, cause they had riches. Their names felt like flies buzzing too close. And I don't like flies.

  I made three phone calls while I paced around the room.

  One to my father's private investigator.

  One to the director of security who handled "quiet problems."

  And one to the head waiter of Il Bravissimo, a restaurant that doesn't take reservations—unless your name means something.

  "Private room. Table for four. Tonight."

  By the time I sat down to take a sip of my drink, I already had Trina's father's offshore accounts pulled up, Kathy's father's marriage license and side girl's baby registry, and Poppy's dad's company environmental violations stacked in a PDF.

  The secrets people keep... are just passwords waiting to be guessed.

  The time had come for them to arrive. I waited seated at the very far edge of the very long table. A drink in my hand—a knob on the other. I pressed on the knob—opening the entrance and giving room to the men who stood outside.

  The three men walked in, one after the other, all with that same cautious hesitation. Businessmen. Proud, clean-shaven, suit-wearing, self-important men.

  This narrative has been purloined without the author's approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.

  Men who thought their daughters could walk over someone like Lily and never taste the consequences.

  My father taught me better.

  "Gentlemen," I said, rising to greet them. "Thanks for coming on such short notice."

  Trina's father looked like he wanted to speak first—he was always the loudest in the room. Always the one threatening teachers, board members, and anyone who stood in his way.

  Tonight, he just nodded.

  I gestured for them to sit. Three chairs. One folder each, placed neatly at their spots. Thick. Paper-clipped. No labels. Just quiet bombs waiting to detonate.

  "I'll make this quick," I said, folding my hands on the table. "There's been a situation involving your daughters."

  Kathy's father cleared his throat. "I heard some nonsense about school—"

  I opened my hand, palm up. A single gesture.

  Silence.

  "These folders contain... everything. Things I'm sure you thought were buried. Hidden. Ignored."

  I watched them. Their eyes twitched. Hands hovered near the files, but no one touched them yet. Cowards.

  "Blackmail?" Amara's dad asked.

  "No," I said simply. "Insurance."

  Trina's dad scoffed. "You're bluffing. You're what, twenty-something? You think—"

  I slid my phone across the table. The screen was on. A single photo.

  His bank statement. $250,000 moved into an unregistered Cayman account under his secretary's name. Dated last week.

  "Don't interrupt me again."

  He shut up.

  I leaned back. Calm. Measured. "Your daughters harassed someone very important to me. They've spread rumors. Humiliated her. Hurt her."

  The room went stiff.

  "You're here tonight because I'm giving you a chance to fix it. Apologize. Take responsibility. Remove them from all extracurriculars for the rest of the semester. And have them offer their help—to her—any time she asks for it. No refusal."

  Poppy's dad looked like he was going to argue. Then he finally opened the folder. First page: photos. Then emails. Then a signed NDA he violated three years ago.

  His face drained.

  I watched them read in silence. I didn't rush them. The best part is always the moment they realize I'm not bluffing. That slow creep of panic in their eyes... like watching a dam crack.

  Trina's father set his folder down last.

  "What do you want us to do?" he asked, voice barely above a whisper.

  I smiled. "Apologize. Sincerely. Have your daughters follow through. If they don't..." I tapped the folder. "Everything here goes to the board. And the press."

  Joelle's father swallowed hard. "Why are you doing this?"

  Because I watched her cry.

  Because I saw her sit on the edge of her bed for fifteen minutes without moving.

  Because she said "thank you" to me like no one had ever defended her before.

  But I only said, "Because she matters."

  That was all. That was enough.

  The next morning came. They followed through. Of course, they did. Fear is a wonderful motivator.

  I picked her up after school.

  She blinked at me as she got in the car. "What did you do?"

  "Just talked to them."

  "What did you say? He looked like he saw death."

  I smirked, driving off. "It doesn't matter. You're safe now."

  She looked at me like I was some kind of alien. Something she couldn't figure out. I liked that. She was trying to understand me, but I didn't want her to. Not yet.

  When we pulled up to her house, she opened the door to leave, then stopped.

  I reached out before I could stop myself, gently catching her arm.

  "If something like this happens again, tell me. Okay?" My voice dropped lower. "Please. I hate seeing you like this."

  I pulled her into a hug.

  She froze. Awkward. But then... she hugged back.

  A beat passed. Two.

  "Thank you, Woody. I really do appreciate you. Even after being kind of a pain in your ass."

  I laughed softly. The air shifted. She smiled a little.

  She waved as she walked to the door.

  I waited until she was inside before pulling away.

  I loved seeing the smile on her face, and I would do anything to keep it there.