Page 98 of Law Maker
He pulled an emerald-green folder from a stack of documents and slid it across the desk. “Read this.”
The elegant cursive on the cover read Willowbrook School for Girls. I opened it. An old stone building—like the ones I’d seen in Europe when Mom was still alive—stared back from the glossy photo. The caption said it was in Oakwood Springs, a town I’d never even heard of.
“It’s an exclusive boarding school for girls,” Dad explained. “They specialize in college prep. Classes are small, and the teachers are experienced. You’ll live there and come home some weekends. It’s six hours from Stetbourg, so weekly travel isn’t practical, but once or twice a month will work.”
The glossy pages seared my fingers. He was sending me away? My heart pounded against my throat. “No.” I snapped the folder shut and shoved it back across the table. “I’m not going anywhere. I’m an adult. You can’t make me.”
Dad’s shoulders rose and fell beneath his tailored jacket. “You live under my roof, which means you answer to me. I’ve put up with toomuch for too long, and I won’t tolerate your disrespect any longer. They expect you in June. Given your less-than-stellar results, you’ll also attend their summer SAT prep camp.”
My chest ached, every breath strangled. June? Only two months away. He wanted me to leave home. To leave dancing. To leave Ash. He was taking everything I loved.
“No, Dad. Please, don’t do this.” My voice thinned to a whisper as tears streamed down my cheeks, but his face stayed impassive. Indifferent. Cold.
“Every action has consequences. I did everything I could to help you without taking drastic measures, but you took advantage of my trust.”
Blood roared in my ears. “You did nothing! You refused to pay for a tutor, and now you’re just sending me away?” I snatched up the folder and hurled it across the room. “You don’t love me! You never have! Mom would’ve never done this to me!”
He crossed the room in a few confident strides and picked up the folder. “Your mother is dead. And if you’d gone to your sessions with Dr. White, you would’ve accepted it by now instead of using her death as an excuse to throw tantrums like a petulant child. But you skipped therapy, Kaia—and lied about it too. Did you really think I wouldn’t find out?”
I choked on a sob. “I hate you.”
Dad handed me the folder. “That’s fine. I’m your father, not your friend. I’ve been warned parenting is a thankless job.”
He marched to the door and held it open. I bolted past him without looking back. In my room, I tossed the glossy leaflets of my future prison onto the bed, grabbed my backpack and a jacket, and fled downstairs and out of the house.
Anger and heartbreak slid down my cheeks in the shape of tears as I called a cab.
It had been too long since I visited Mom, but Stetbourg Memorial Park was the only place I wanted to be.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
Asher
It was almost seven when I got home. The TV murmured in the living room, otherwise the house felt too quiet. I followed the noise and found my mother on the couch, nursing a glass of red wine while a home renovation show droned on.
“Hi. Where’s everyone?” I asked.
“Asher.” She sat straighter and lowered the volume. “Russell and Kaia had a fight. She stormed out, and Russell went to a meeting.”
My stomach caved in on itself. “What do you mean, she stormed out?” How could she be so fucking calm?
“Teenagers.” She rolled her eyes. “Russell said Kaia went to Mandy’s. She’s probably sleeping there tonight.”
To Mandy’s? Russell didn’t even know they weren’t friends anymore. He just assumed and went on with his day.
Heart pounding in my throat, I pulled up Kaia’s number from recent calls and pressed the phone to my ear.
Voicemail. Fuck.
“When did she leave?” I demanded.
My mother blinked, yawning. “A few hours ago.”
Hours? The wind howled outside, the cold biting, a storm on its way—and Kaia was out there, alone. I dragged a hand through my hair. Calm. I needed to calm the fuck down and figure out where she’d gone.
“Why are you so agitated?” she asked, sipping her wine and fluffing a cushion behind her.
I shoved my phone into my pocket. I’d think once I was on the road. “Better ask yourself why you’re not,” I threw over my shoulder, storming out.
