Chapter 72 Chapter Seventy Two
Mrs. Dawson sat across from me in the sitting room, her hands folded neatly in her lap, her expression still a little suspicious of me.
I'd spent the last ten minutes trying to carefully explain what had actually happened in a way that wouldn’t make things look any worse than they already were.
"Jace and I had an argument earlier today," I said, keeping my voice steady despite the way my hands shook in my lap. "About... about school stuff. He had different ideas for how we should spend our time together instead of tutoring, and I tried to tell him we couldn’t do that. He didn't take it well."
It wasn't entirely a lie. We had argued. Just maybe not exactly like that.
"So when you knocked on his door," I continued, "we were still upset with each other. I think he said those things because he was angry and he wanted to hurt me. Not because they were true."
Mrs. Dawson's expression grew even more suspicious, "That's quite an accusation to make, Lena. That my own son would deliberately lie to me."
"I'm not saying he lied, exactly. I'm saying he was upset and maybe exaggerated things." I leaned forward slightly.
"Mrs. Dawson, look at my record. Take a look at what I've accomplished here. Jace's grades have improved significantly over the past month, so much so that even our teachers can barely believe it.”
I continued, “Martin's reading level has also gone up two grades. I've been professional, punctual, and focused entirely on their education from start to finish."
"That's true," she admitted.
"I don't have time to be obsessed with boys, Mrs. Dawson. I work this job. I take care of my mother. I maintain a 4.0 GPA because I need my scholarship. When would I have time to develop some inappropriate crush on Jace?"
I pulled out my phone, scrolling to my calendar. "Look. This is my schedule. Between school and work, I barely sleep. The only time I spend with Jace is when I'm teaching him. That's it."
Mrs. Dawson took my phone, studying the packed schedule with furrowed brows.
"And as for being desperate for attention..." I swallowed hard. "Mrs. Dawson, if I was really throwing myself at your son, would he have improved this much? Would I have been professional enough to help Martin overcome his reading difficulties? Would you have trusted me with your children for this long?"
She handed my phone back slowly.
"Alright, Lena." Her voice was calm. "I'll give you one final chance. You can continue to work here."
Relief flooded through me so intensely that I felt dizzy. I sent up a prayer to heaven, thankful for the second chance I’d been given.
"Thank you, Mrs. Dawson. Thank you so much—"
"But understand this." Her tone went hard as steel. "One more slip-up, and there won't be any more second chances. None."
"I understand—"
"And be informed that stalking or harassment of my children is a serious offence." Her eyes bored into mine. "If such accusations are made again, by anyone, for any reason, I will be taking it up with the police. Do you understand what that means, Lena?"
My mouth went dry. "I... yes."
"You would be facing criminal charges. Juvenile detention, possibly worse depending on the severity." She leaned forward. "The Dawson family has very good lawyers. Very good. And we take the safety of our heirs extremely seriously."
The unspoken threat hung in the air between us, although Mrs Dawson was far too nice and polite to say the words outright.
Cross us again, and we will destroy you.
"I understand, Mrs. Dawson," I managed. "It won't happen again."
"See that it doesn't."
She stood, smoothing down her skirt. "You can stay. But I'll be watching, Lena. Very closely."
Then she left the room, leaving me alone with my racing heart and the sharp, bitter taste of anger rising in my throat.
Noah was waiting outside the door when I emerged.
His expression mirrored what I felt, a new simmering, righteous fury that had replaced my sadness from earlier.
He reached out, his thumb brushing away a tear I hadn't realized was still clinging to my cheek.
"How did it go?" he asked quietly.
"Well, I guess. I was given another chance." I sounded flat and hollow, even to myself.
All of this yelling and crying had taken such a toll on me that I wanted to go to bed and either fall asleep or strangle my pillow.
"I meant how did it go in here?" Noah tapped my temple gently. "Have you realised yet what sort of person Jace really is?"
It was as though he’d read my mind, as if someone had finally given a voice to the thoughts I'd been trying to push down all this time.
"Come on." Noah's hand found the small of my back, guiding me down the hall. "Let's get your mind off this."
He led me through the house to a room I'd only glimpsed once before, the Dawsons' private gym.
It was massive. One entire wall was floor-to-ceiling mirrors, the other lined with weight equipment and complicated-looking machines.
The floor was polished hardwood covered in part by thick exercise mats. A ballet barre ran along the mirrored wall, and in the corner, I spotted a sound system and what looked like a mini-fridge stocked with protein shakes and water.
Noah grabbed one of the large foam mats and pulled it to the centre of the room.
"Hop on," he said.
I stared at him confusedly. "What?"
"Cheerleading tryouts are tomorrow, remember?" He patted the mat. "We've got work to do."
Tomorrow.
Oh God.
In all the chaos; the fight with Jace, the humiliation with his mother and nearly losing my job, I'd completely forgotten about the cheer squad.
The final tryouts were tomorrow afternoon, and I still couldn't do a back handspring, or a proper toe touch, or anything for that matter.
I looked at the clock on the wall. 7:47 PM.
It was nearly nightfall. I'd wasted the entire day arguing, crying, bargaining, and now I was out of time.
"I'll head back to my room and finish my report. I don’t think I can do this," I said, my voice breaking. "I'm not ready. I’m not cut out for it, and after what just happened I think I’d rather concentrate on work so…”
"Lena." Noah's voice was calm and steady. "Get on the mat."
"You don't understand. I've had all day to practice and I wasted it on Jace and his nonsense and now…"
"Get. On. The mat."
The firmness in his tone made me listen and move my feet. I dropped my bag and stepped onto the soft foam, my sneakers sinking in slightly as I waited to hear what he would say.