Page 35 of Misconducts & Temptation

I took a deep breath and lined up another shot, feeling a flicker of determination ignite within me. It was time to show my father that I wouldn't bend over and take it anymore.

The puck sailed into the net once again, and for the first time in a long while, I felt a glimmer of control returning to my life.

"You have one shot here," Morgan said quietly but firmly. "Don't waste it."

Chapter 11

Elodie

Ipulled on the starch polo and the stiff pants, the fabric rough against my skin. My fingers worked quickly, fastening buttons with practiced precision. I grabbed my purse, knowing the campus shuttle wouldn’t wait for me. I wanted to be out of this house as soon as possible.

Heading down the stairs, I heard movement in the kitchen. Marion was already awake, her presence a dark cloud in the early morning light.

She looked up from her cup of coffee and smiled at me, a smile that never reached her eyes. "It seems like William wants to marry sooner rather than later," she said, her tone dripping with false sweetness.

I said nothing, my lips pressed into a thin line. Hadn’t they already said that?

"When you get home from work," she continued, "start packing nonessentials. Friday, you’ll be a bride and all of my problems, including you, will be gone."

My heart lurched at her words. The reality of it crashed over me like a cold wave.

"I don't understand," I said, my voice barely above a whisper.

She laughed, the sound bitter and cold. "The things you couldn't comprehend are too many to guess," she said, setting her coffee cup down with a clink. "You'll have to explain."

"You loved my father," I insisted, my eyes searching hers for any trace of the woman who once showed kindness. "I know you did. So, how could you do this to me?"

"What does my love for him have anything to do with you?" she demanded, standing slowly, her chair scraping against the floor. "You want to know why I loathe you? Why I can't stand you? Because no matter what I did for your father, no matter how much I loved him, it was never good enough. His priority has always been you above everyone else."

I stiffened, taken aback by her admission. Jealousy? Of me? It seemed almost silly, like a cruel joke.

"Love between a man and wife is much different than between a man and his daughter," I said quietly.

"You'd like to think that, I'm sure," she spat. "Go. Before I make you late to your job and your precious summer classes. William won't tolerate your education so get used to not being there."

I clenched my teeth, the urge to argue bubbling up inside me. But I knew better than to engage her now. Silence was my shield.

Without another word, I turned and walked out the door, the weight of her words pressing down on me like a lead blanket.

I trudged down the gravel path, my shoes kicking up small stones that clattered and skittered ahead of me. The early morning air was cool, but my thoughts burned hot with anger and desperation. Trees lined the road. The quarter mile to the shuttle stop felt longer than usual, each step heavy with the weight of Marion's words.

How could I escape this marriage? William's looming presence, his intentions clear and suffocating, clouded my mind. Keaton's offer flickered like a distant beacon, but doubts gnawed at me. Was he serious? Could I really rely on him? He was a stranger, someone with his own tangled mess of problems. I needed a plan that didn't hinge on the whims of a rich hockey player.

The shuttle stop came into view, an old wooden bench beneath a weathered sign. I glanced around, making sure I was alone before sinking onto the bench. The sun had barely risen, casting long shadows across the ground. I pulled my phone from my purse, checking the time. Five minutes until the shuttle arrived.

I could run away, I thought. Just disappear and start fresh somewhere else. I could write anywhere. But where would I go? How would I survive? Crestwood Academy was my only lifeline—my scholarship, my job as a locker room attendant—everything tied me to this place. And I knew my father would never want me to run away when things got hard.

The rumble of the approaching shuttle pulled me from my thoughts. It rounded the corner, its engine grumbling like an old bear waking from hibernation. The doors hissed open, and I climbed aboard, nodding to the driver.

"Morning," he greeted me with a tired smile.

"Morning," I replied, forcing a small smile in return.

I took a seat by the window, the vinyl seat cool against my legs. The shuttle jerked forward, its tires crunching over gravel before settling onto the smooth asphalt road.

As we drove through town, the scenery shifted from suburban homes to open fields and then to dense clusters of trees. My mind raced alongside the passing landscape. Crestwood Academy loomed ahead—a sanctuary and a prison all at once.

I needed to figure this out before Friday. The academy's imposing gates came into view, flanked by stone pillars that seemed more like sentinels guarding secrets than simple architecture. The shuttle slowed as we approached the entrance.

---