Chapter 31 CHAPTER 31

Chapter 31 CHAPTER 31
Vivienne’s POV
Uncle Martin sat in one of the leather chairs, and he looked awful.

His face was a mess of bruises—purple and yellow and green, all mixed together. A white bandage covered his nose, which was clearly broken. His left eye was swollen almost shut, and there were cuts healing on his cheek and jaw.

Rafael had done that to him.

And seeing him here, in the principal's office, made every bit of progress I'd made over the past three days crumble to dust.

"Ah, Vivienne." Principal Morrison gestured to the empty chair next to Uncle Martin. "Please, have a seat."

I couldn't move. Couldn't breathe.

Uncle Martin's good eye locked onto me, and even bruised and bandaged, the hatred in his gaze was unmistakable.

"Well?" The principal prompted. "Sit down, Miss Chen. We need to discuss some serious allegations."

My legs carried me forward on autopilot. I sank into the chair, as far from Uncle Martin as I could get.

"Do you know why you're here?" Principal Morrison asked, settling into his chair behind the desk.

I shook my head, not trusting my voice.

"Your guardian, Mr. Martin Chen, has come to me with some very disturbing claims." The principal folded his hands on the desk. "Mr. Chen, would you like to explain?"

"Yes." Uncle Martin leaned forward, wincing at the movement. "Three nights ago, I was brutally attacked in my own home."

My stomach twisted.

"By who?" the principal asked.

"By this one—" Uncle Martin pointed at me with a bandaged hand. "—and her friends. A boy and another girl. They broke into my apartment, assaulted me, and left me for dead."

"That's not—" I started, but my voice came out as a whisper.

"Not what?" Uncle Martin's voice rose. "Not true? Look at my face, Vivienne! Look what your boyfriend did to me!"

"Mr. Chen, please lower your voice," Principal Morrison said calmly.

"Lower my voice? My own niece conspired with her friends to nearly kill me! She's been living under my roof, eating my food, and this is how she repays me?" His face was turning red now, spittle flying. "I gave her everything after her parents died! Everything! And she brings thugs to my home to attack me!"

"I didn't—" My throat was closing up. "I didn't bring anyone—"

"Don't lie to me!" Uncle Martin slammed his good hand on the principal's desk, making me flinch. "That boy—tall, blonde hair, probably on the hockey team based on his build—he kicked down my door! Broke my nose! Fractured three of my ribs! And you just stood there and watched!"

Tears were burning behind my eyes. This wasn't how it happened. He was twisting everything, making me the villain.

"Mr. Chen," Principal Morrison's voice was firm now. "I need you to calm down. This is a serious accusation, and I need to hear all sides before—"

"All sides? LOOK AT MY FACE!" Uncle Martin was fully shouting now. "What more evidence do you need? She's dangerous! Her and her friends are violent criminals who need to be expelled and arrested!"

"Mr. Chen, if you don't lower your voice, I'll have to ask you to leave."

Uncle Martin took a shaky breath, clearly trying to reign himself in. "I apologize. But you have to understand—I'm the victim here. And I'm her legal guardian. I have every right to remove her from this school effective immediately."

No.

No no no no no.

"Remove her?" Principal Morrison's eyebrows rose. "Don't you think that's a bit extreme?"

"Extreme? She tried to have me killed!" Uncle Martin's voice was rising again. "I won't have her endangering other students. She's coming home with me today, and I'm enrolling her in a different school. One where she won't have access to violent thugs who do her bidding."

Home. He wanted to take me home.

Back to that apartment. Back to his drinking and his abuse and his stealing.

Back to everything I'd finally escaped.

I couldn't breathe. The room was spinning. My hands were shaking so hard I had to clench them in my lap.

This was it. It was over. Three days of peace, of safety, of actually feeling like I might have a future—all gone.

"Mr. Chen," Principal Morrison said slowly, "these are very serious accusations. Assault. Breaking and entering. If what you're saying is true, this would be a police matter, not a school disciplinary issue."

"I'm handling it through proper channels," Uncle Martin said quickly. Too quickly. "I filed a report. But in the meantime, I want her out of this school. Today."

The principal was quiet for a moment, studying Uncle Martin with an expression I couldn't quite read.

"Miss Chen has been a student here for three years," he said finally. "In that time, she's maintained a 4.0 GPA. She's never been in trouble. Never had a single disciplinary issue. Her teachers describe her as quiet, reserved, and one of our most dedicated students."

"That's just—"

"Let me finish." Principal Morrison's tone left no room for argument. "The girl you're describing—violent, manipulative, dangerous—doesn't match the student I know. Not even a little bit."

Uncle Martin's jaw clenched. "People can hide who they really are—"

"They can. But I've been doing this job for twenty years, Mr. Chen. And I've gotten pretty good at reading people." The principal turned to me. "Vivienne, I can see you're trembling. And you look terrified. Why is that?"

I opened my mouth, but nothing came out.

"She's scared because she knows she's been caught," Uncle Martin interjected.

"I wasn't asking you." Principal Morrison didn't take his eyes off me. "Vivienne, I need to hear your side of this. What happened three nights ago?"

My throat was so tight I could barely breathe, let alone speak.

"Take your time," the principal said gently. "But I need to know the truth. Did you and your friends assault your uncle?"

"I—" My voice cracked. "He—"

"She's just going to lie!" Uncle Martin burst out. "Why are you even listening to her? Look at my face! The evidence is right here!"

"Mr. Chen, one more outburst and you're leaving. This is your final warning."

Uncle Martin's mouth snapped shut, but his good eye was blazing with fury.

\# Vivienne's POV

Principal Morrison leaned forward, his expression kind. "Vivienne, I can see something is very wrong here. You're shaking. You won't look at your uncle. And frankly, his story doesn't add up."

"Doesn't add up?" Uncle Martin sputtered. "What doesn't add up?"

"If you were truly attacked as severely as you claim, you would have been hospitalized. Your injuries, while significant, aren't consistent with someone who was 'left for dead.'" The principal's eyes narrowed. "And if this attack was as violent and unprovoked as you say, why didn't you call the police immediately? Why wait three days to come here?"

Uncle Martin's face went red again. "I was recovering—"

"And yet you're well enough to storm into my office and demand your niece be removed from school." Principal Morrison folded his hands. "Something isn't adding up, Mr. Chen. And I'd like to hear Vivienne's version before I make any decisions."

He turned back to me, and his expression softened. "Vivienne, I need you to listen to me carefully. Whatever you tell me in this room stays between us unless you give me permission to share it. Your uncle cannot hurt you here. I won't let him. Do you understand?"

I tried to nod, but I was shaking so hard my whole body trembled.

"Take a deep breath," he said gently. His voice had changed—it wasn't the stern principal voice anymore. It was softer. Almost fatherly. "I know you're scared. But I've been watching you for three years. I've seen how hard you work. How you stay after school in the library. How you never cause trouble. And I've noticed other things too."

He paused, his eyes sad.

"I've noticed how you wear the same clothes multiple times a week. How you never eat a full lunch. How you flinch when people raise their voices." His gaze flicked to Uncle Martin, then back to me. "And I've noticed that every time we've called your guardian about your achievements—honor roll, academic awards—he never shows up."

My eyes burned with tears.

"So I'm going to ask you again, and I need you to be honest with me. Did you conspire with your friends to assault your uncle? Or is there something else going on here?"

The tears started falling. I couldn't stop them.

"I—" My voice broke. "He—he's lying."

"Vivienne—" Uncle Martin's voice was warning.

"Mr. Chen, be quiet." Principal Morrison didn't even look at him. His eyes stayed locked on me. "Vivienne, tell me what happened. All of it. Start from the beginning."

"You can't believe her over me!" Uncle Martin protested. "I'm her legal guardian! I have rights—"

"You have the right to remain silent," Principal Morrison cut him off sharply. "Which I strongly suggest you exercise right now. One more word, and I'm calling security to have you escorted out."

Uncle Martin's mouth clamped shut, but his good eye was burning with fury.

The principal turned back to me, his expression gentle again. "Vivienne, it's okay. He can't hurt you. I promise. Just tell me what happened."

The words came tumbling out before I could stop them.

"He tried to kill me." My voice was barely a whisper. "Three nights ago. He came home drunk and he was angry because I'd stayed at a friend's house the night before and—and he started yelling and hitting me and then he—"

My hand went to my throat, to the bruises that were still there, fading but visible.

"He strangled me. He put his hands around my neck and squeezed and I couldn't breathe and I thought I was going to die."

Principal Morrison's expression went very still. Very cold.

"That's a lie!" Uncle Martin burst out. "She's making this up! I would never—"

"Mr. Chen, I will not tell you again. Be. Quiet."

The principal stood up and walked around his desk. He knelt down in front of me, his eyes level with mine.

"Vivienne, may I see your neck?"

With trembling hands, I pulled down the collar of my hoodie.

The bruises were still there. Faded from the dark purple they'd been, but still visible. Perfect finger-shaped marks around my throat.

Principal Morrison's jaw clenched so hard I heard his teeth grind. "How long has he been hurting you?"

"Three years," I whispered. "Since I moved in with him after my parents died."

"She's lying!" Uncle Martin stood up. "Those bruises could be from anything! She probably got them from—"

"Sit. Down." Principal Morrison's voice was deadly quiet. He didn't yell. Didn't raise his voice at all. But something in his tone made Uncle Martin sink back into his chair.

The principal turned back to me. "Three years. Has he hit you before?"

I nodded, tears streaming down my face. "All the time. When he drinks. Which is... almost every day."

"Has he ever hurt you worse than this?"

"He—" I choked on the words. "He pushed me down the stairs once. Broke my wrist. I told the hospital I fell."

"Jesus Christ," Principal Morrison muttered. He stood up and walked back behind his desk, his hands clenched into fists. "What else? Tell me everything, Vivienne. Every single thing he's done to you."

The dam broke.

Everything I'd been holding in for three years came pouring out. The beatings. The verbal abuse. The way he stole my college fund—every penny I'd saved from working three jobs. How he'd force me to cook and clean while he sat drunk on the couch. How he'd threaten me, tell me I was worthless, that my parents would be ashamed of me.

"That's not true!" Uncle Martin kept interrupting. "She's exaggerating! Kids lie all the time when they're in trouble—"

"I had to work three jobs just to eat," I continued, ignoring him. "Because he spent all his money on alcohol. I'd go to school hungry. I'd wear the same clothes over and over because I couldn't afford new ones. And every night I'd go home terrified of what mood he'd be in."

"This is ridiculous!" Uncle Martin stood up again. "I took her in out of the goodness of my heart! I didn't have to do that! And this is how she repays me? With lies and—"

"Mr. Chen, if you don't sit down and shut your mouth, I'm going to come over there and add to those injuries myself." Principal Morrison's voice was ice cold. "And trust me, what I'll do will make whatever your niece's friend did look gentle."

Uncle Martin's mouth fell open. "Are you threatening me?"

"Yes. Sit down."

Uncle Martin sat.

Principal Morrison turned back to me. "What happened three nights ago? After he attacked you? How did you get away?"

"My friend—" I wiped my face. "Rafael. He—he heard me. Somehow. And he broke down the door and pulled my uncle off me and—"

"And beat the shit out of him," Principal Morrison finished. "Which, quite frankly, your uncle deserved."

"I was defending myself!" Uncle Martin protested. "She attacked me first! She—"

"She weighs maybe a hundred and ten pounds soaking wet," the principal snapped. "You're twice her size and you're trying to tell me she attacked you? That she overpowered you?"

"She had help! That boy—"

"That boy saved her life." Principal Morrison's hands were shaking now. With anger, I realized. He was furious. "She had bruises around her neck, Mr. Chen. Finger-shaped bruises. You were strangling her. A minor. Your own niece. And you're sitting here trying to play the victim?"

"It wasn't like that—"

"Then what was it like?" The principal's voice rose for the first time. "Enlighten me. How exactly do you put your hands around a seventeen-year-old girl's throat and squeeze hard enough to leave bruises without it being attempted murder?"

Uncle Martin's mouth opened and closed. No sound came out.

"That's what I thought." Principal Morrison sat back down, and when he spoke again, his voice was calm. But it was the scary kind of calm. The kind that meant someone was barely holding themselves together.

"Here's what's going to happen. You're going to leave this school right now. You're going to withdraw any police report you filed. And you're never going to contact Vivienne again. Ever."

"You can't—"

"I can. And I will." The principal leaned forward. "Because if you don't, I'm going to call the police myself. And I'm going to tell them everything Vivienne just told me. About the abuse. About the attempted murder. About the financial exploitation. And then I'm going to personally make sure you spend a very long time in prison."

Uncle Martin's face had gone pale. "She doesn't have proof—"

"She has those bruises on her neck. She has three years of medical records I'm betting will show a pattern of injuries. She has her bank statements showing you cleaned out her account." Principal Morrison's eyes were hard. "And she has me. A mandatory reporter who is more than happy to testify about this conversation."

The room went silent.

Uncle Martin looked at me, and for the first time, I saw something like fear in his eyes.

"You're going to regret this," he said quietly. "Both of you."

"Is that a threat?" Principal Morrison stood up. "Because if it is, I'm calling the police right now."

Uncle Martin stood up quickly, wincing. "I'm leaving. But this isn't over."

"Yes, it is." The principal's voice was final. "Get out of my school. And if I see you on this property again, I'm having you arrested for trespassing."

Uncle Martin looked at me one more time—pure hatred in his eyes—then turned and limped out of the office.

The door slammed behind him.

The silence that followed was deafening.