Chapter 61
Elara
Not a question. An accusation. My voice came out louder than I'd intended, raw with the anger I'd been swallowing for hours.
Julian's jaw tightened. Behind him, Atlas took a step forward. Julian raised one hand—a small gesture that stopped the bodyguard in his tracks.
"Get in the car," Julian said. His voice was quiet. Dangerous. "We're not having this conversation on the street."
"No." My hands clenched into fists at my sides. "No, I'm not getting in any car with you. I want to know why. Why her? She didn't do anything. She wasn't even at the lecture. She—"
"She failed to properly supervise her student." Julian's tone was flat. Professional. Like he was reading from a script. "The school board determined that her negligence contributed to the disruption at the donor event. She's been offered a generous severance package and a neutral reference. That's more than most people get."
"That's not—" I stepped closer. My voice cracked. "You know that's not true. You know she had nothing to do with—"
"What I know," Julian interrupted, "is that Sloane Kennedy—a respected member of the Kennedy family, a major donor to St. Valerius—was publicly humiliated because of a student's baseless accusations. What I know is that someone had to take responsibility."
His hand shot out. Grabbed my upper arm. Not hard enough to hurt, but firm enough to make his point. "And what I know is that you've been causing problems for weeks now. First the hotel in Boston. Then the fight with Victoria. Then Mason Parker. Now this. You keep pushing, Elara. You keep making messes that other people have to clean up."
I tried to jerk away. His grip tightened.
"Let go of me—"
"Not until you understand something." He leaned closer. His breath was warm against my face. "The Kennedy family is furious. They wanted blood. They wanted you expelled, sued, destroyed. I talked them down. I convinced them that removing one teacher would be enough. That you'd been manipulated by an adult who should have known better."
My vision blurred. Not from tears—I wouldn't give him that. From rage so intense it made everything white at the edges.
"She didn't manipulate me. She didn't even know I was going to—"
"It doesn't matter what she knew." Julian's voice dropped lower. Quieter. "It matters what they believe she knew. And right now, they believe she encouraged you. Enabled you. Failed to report warning signs of unstable behavior."
He let go of my arm. Took a step back. Adjusted his cuff links—a casual gesture that somehow made the moment more brutal. "Ms. Rivera lost her job because you couldn't keep your mouth shut. Because you couldn't leave well enough alone. Because you insisted on fighting battles you cannot possibly win."
The words hit like blows. Each one landing exactly where he'd aimed it. Making me flinch. Making me feel small.
"Because of me."
"She lost everything because of me."
"This is what you do, isn't it?" I heard myself say. My voice sounded distant. Hollow. "This is how you control people. You don't just punish the person who challenges you. You punish everyone around them. You make them watch while you destroy the people who tried to help them. So next time, no one will."
Something flickered in Julian's expression. Not guilt—nothing so simple. Just a brief tightness around his eyes that might have been recognition. Acknowledgment.
Then it was gone.
"I do what I have to do to protect the people I care about," he said. "Sloane didn't deserve what you did to her. Neither did my family. If that means making hard decisions, then I make them."
He glanced at his watch. "I have a dinner reservation. Are you going to get in the car, or are you going to stand here freezing?"
"Neither." My legs felt unsteady, but I forced myself to stay upright. "I'm not going anywhere with you. I just wanted to know if you felt anything. If somewhere under all this—" I gestured at him, at the car, at the building behind us, "—there was any part of you that remembered what it felt like to be human."
Julian's expression didn't change. "Atlas, call ahead to the restaurant. Let them know we'll be twenty minutes late." Then, to me: "Get. In. The. Car."
"No."
He looked at me with barely concealed impatience. "Elara, I don't have time for whatever this is. If you want to discuss Ms. Rivera's situation, we can schedule—"
His phone rang. He frowned, answered. "Marcus? Now's not really—" He paused. Listened. His expression shifted. "The Vanderbilt Club? Tonight?" Another pause. "Fine. Yes. I'll be there in forty minutes."
He hung up. Turned to Atlas. "Take her to The Vanderbilt Club. Private entrance."
My stomach dropped. "What? No, I'm not—"
"You wanted my attention, Elara?" Julian's smile was cold. Sharp. "You have it. You want to talk about Ms. Rivera? About Sloane? About all the ways you think I've wronged you? Fine. We'll talk. But we'll do it on my terms, in my space, when I'm ready."
He slid into the car. The door shut with a heavy, final sound. The Mercedes pulled away from the curb, leaving me standing there with Atlas.
The bodyguard's expression was neutral. Professional. "Miss Vance. The SUV is around the corner. If you'll come with me."
"No." I backed away. "No, I'm not going to some club. I'm going home."
"Mr. Vane has requested your presence." Atlas's tone remained even, but there was steel underneath. "I'm authorized to escort you. We can do this easily, or we can do it the other way."
My heart hammered. I looked around—at the empty street, at the few pedestrians hurrying past with their heads down, at the coffee shop where the barista was already pulling down the security gate.
No one was going to help me. No one even saw me.
"Fine," I said. My voice shook. "Fine. I'll go."