Page 29 of Unspoken Truths

I think my head is going to pop off and spin the fuck around. Is he serious right now?

“Your father has been called, but I didn’t explain everything that happened,” Mr. Lee says. “I figured I’d be a facilitator while you tell him the truth about how you’re a dirty little slut.”

I can’t fucking believe this. I’m panting for breaths that won’t come, so angry I can’t see straight, being pulled into a panic attack.

The door crashes open, making me gasp in fear, but it also interrupts my spiral. Emil stands at the door he just kicked open, almost appearing purple, a copy of the newspaper fisted in his head.

Oh fuck.

“I don’t believe that Colton Baal is the victim in this equation,” he growls. “Calling my stepdaughter a slut puts you into direct violation of your own fucking morality clause. Are you seriously going to expel a rape victim that’s been doxxed?”

“What?” Mr. Lee asks, struggling to follow the conversation.

“Catch up,come mierda,” Emil says. All I understand there is ‘eat shit’, but the context is over my head. I may need to take Spanish lessons, at whatever school I end up at after this. “Rape, the act in which someone forced sexual intercourse on an unwilling participant. I looked up the case on my phone while I read this fabricated article, and she was fifteen when it happened.”

Ah, Mom definitely didn’t tell him about Colton, or at least not that part.

“It doesn’t state rape in the article,” Mr. Lee blusters as I sigh.

“Legally, I can’t consent in the state of Florida with that large of an age gap either way, but I definitely didn’t want anything to do with Colton,” I say softly, hammering another nail in Mr. Lee’s argument.

“This also isn’t the type of article that we, as parents, expect to see at Carlysle Prep,” my stepfather states, appearing apoplectic.

I wonder if it’s possible to be so angry that you have a heart attack…

“No, of course not, but we don’t know who approved it,” Mr. Lee says. “I had Miss Liliana in here earlier, and she explained that it wasn’t there when she approved the final version yesterday after lunch.”

“Miss Hailey is the teacher who is responsible for the newspaper, isn’t she?” I ask without thinking.

“Hold your tongue,” Mr. Lee growls at me, only for Emil to slam the door closed as he steps into the office.

“She absolutely will not,” Emil says. “Rachelle brings up a very good point. I want her fully investigated and then fired if she’s responsible.”

“We can’t just fire someone without proof,” Mr. Lee protests, making me roll my eyes.

This could be my out, I could take the expulsion and walk away, except I don’t think I want to. All I’ve been thinking about all day is leaving this godforsaken school.

But if I do, the Kings win.

“The way you are willing to toss me out of the school?” I ask the headmaster, raising my brow. “Is it because you have some kind of loyalty to your teachers and everyone else except me, the new girl?”

“That’s funny, considering the fact that you accepted my check for fifty thousand dollars to ensure her spot,” Emil says wryly.

Holy shit.Gaping at him probably isn’t a smart move when that amount of money is child’s play to him. Instead, I keep my lips tightly pressed together, not showing any emotion at all. Instead, I’m riding a roller coaster of feelings with high highs and very low lows.

It vaguely reminds me of when Mom had to put me in a mental health hold for seventy two hours, and I desperately don’t want to go back there.

“I think that fifty thousand dollars could be put to better use,” I say softly, waiting to see what Emil says.

“Wait, see here,” Mr. Lee says before my stepfather sharply nods.

“Rachelle and I need to talk and decide if your school is good enough for her,” he says haughtily. “At this time, it’s unsafe for her to remain here until you get to the bottom of this atrocity.”

Emil throws the newspaper in the headmaster’s face, who catches it while sputtering in exasperation.

“As for a better place for the donation to the school to the egregious breach of trust, I agree,” my stepfather continues. “I think it should be donated to sexual assault resource centers in Portland. I expect to see the receipt for the donation in my email by tomorrow afternoon, Archie. This is not a suggestion.”

“But sir,” Mr. Lee says, to no avail.

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