Chapter 55 Chapter 55
The principal’s office was a vacuum of mahogany and stifling silence, until the door slammed shut behind us.
The room was crowded, the air thick with the scent of expensive cologne and the sharp, metallic tang of cold fury. My mother sat in one of the leather armchairs, her face pale, her hands twisting her scarf into knots. Beside her, his father stood like a sentinel, his posture so rigid it seemed he might snap.
The principal sat behind his desk, looking like a man who had lost control of his own school.
"Sit down," the father commanded, his voice a low, vibrating growl.
He didn't move. He kept his hand firmly locked in mine, his thumb stroking my knuckles in a rhythmic, grounding pulse that was the only thing keeping me from bolting.
"I’m not sitting," he said, his voice dropping an octave. "And she isn't leaving."
"Jace!" the father barked, the name cracking through the room like a whip. "You have humiliated this family. This girl—this manifesto—has made you a laughingstock. You are going to the academy, and you are going tonight."
"He didn't humiliate anyone," I found myself saying, my voice shaking but audible. I felt my mother’s eyes on me—shocked, pleading—but I didn't look at her. "He was the victim of a violation of privacy. We both were."
She stepped forward from the doorway, leaning against the frame with a casual, cruel elegance. "Privacy? Cass, you wrote about how he isn't 'real.' You wrote about his brother's secrets. You didn't just write a diary; you wrote a hit list."
"You stole it!" I turned on her, the heat of the drama finally boiling over. "You broke into my room, you violated my home, and you displayed my private thoughts for a thousand people to see. That’s not 'saving' anyone. That’s a crime."
The father let out a sharp, jagged laugh. "In this world, the crime is being weak enough to let a girl like you get under your skin. Jace, let go of her hand."
"No," he replied. He stepped closer to his father, his eyes dark and defiant. "You want to talk about being weak? You’re so afraid of a little 'noise' that you’re willing to ship your son across the country because he found someone who actually sees through the mask you forced on him. You don't care about my reputation. You care about your control."
The father’s hand twitched, his face turning a dangerous shade of crimson. "I am protecting your future."
"My future isn't in a folder on your desk!" he shouted, the calm finally shattering. The "Cold and Calculating" mask was gone, replaced by a raw, bleeding honesty. "I have spent seventeen years being the 'perfect' one so you wouldn't have to deal with the brother. I’ve cleaned up every mess, stayed quiet through every insult, and I am done. If I go to that academy, I’m never coming back. Is that the future you want?"
The silence that followed was absolute. Even she seemed to shrink back, her smirk faltering.
My mother finally stood up, her eyes wide as she looked at me, then at the boy holding my hand. "Nolan," she said softly, addressing his father by name for the first time. "This has gone too far. They're just children. We're acting like they're enemies in a war."
"They are at war," the father hissed. "Because of her."
He looked at me then, a look of pure, unadulterated coldness. "You think you won? You think this is a movie? You’ve ruined him. By tomorrow, every college scout, every recruiter, every 'friend' he has will know he’s a boy who can’t even handle his own emotions."
"Then let them know," I said, stepping forward until I was the one shielding him. "Because at least now he has emotions. At least now he’s real."
The principal cleared his throat, the sound incredibly loud in the small room. "Mr. Thorne, the board has made its decision regarding the digital board incident. She will be suspended for three days for the breach of school policy and the use of the school’s technology for harassment."
She gasped, her face contorting in shock. "What? I was the one showing the truth!"
"You were the one who broke the law," the principal said firmly.
The father looked at his son, then at me, then at the suspension notice on the desk. He realized, in that moment, that the "Perfect Twin" was gone forever. He turned on his heel without another word, the door swinging shut with a heavy, final thud.
We stood there in the office, the air finally returning to the room. I looked at him, and for the first time since the diary had appeared on the board, he smiled. It wasn't a perfect smile. It was tired, bruised, and real.
"He's going to make my life hell," he whispered.
"I know," I said.
"And Marvin is going to be even louder."
"I know."
He leaned in, his forehead resting against mine. "Was it worth it? The diary? The board?"
I looked at the door where she had disappeared, then at my mother, who was watching us with a mix of fear and dawning understanding.
"I don't know," I whispered. "But for the first time, I don't care what the next page says."