"We were assured those records were sealed," Mrs. Jorgenson says, her voice tight.
"They were," I confirm. "But Ms. Matthews was willing to provide a statement when I explained my situation. She's not the only one. Kyle attended three schools before Riverside Academy. At each one, he fixated on a female teacher, and one with a senior female student. At each one, his behavior escalated until either he was expelled or his target transferred away."
I meet Kyle's eyes directly for the first time. The cold calculation I see there makes my skin crawl, but I don't look away.
"Why didn't you disclose this history when you enrolled Kyle here?" Margaret asks the Jorgensons.
Mrs. Jorgenson's composure cracks. "We thought a fresh start would help. Kyle has been seeing a therapist. We believed he'd learned to manage his impulses."
"Clearly he hasn't," another board member says dryly.
Margaret pulls out a tablet. "We've also reviewed security footage from the night Miss Wilson's classroom was vandalized. Kyle, can you explain why you're seen entering the building at 11:47 p.m.?"
The smirk disappears completely. Kyle sits up straighter, his eyes darting to his parents.
"I forgot something in my locker," he says quickly.
"Your locker is in the west wing. Miss Wilson's classroom is in the east wing. The footage shows you going directly there." Margaret turns the tablet so everyone can see. "You're carrying a backpack that appears full when you enter and empty when you leave forty minutes later."
Mr. Jorgenson's hands clench on the armrests. "This is circumstantial."
"Perhaps," Margaret agrees. "But combined with the pattern Miss Wilson has documented, it's enough for us to take action."
The board members confer quietly among themselves. I watch Kyle's parents realize their money and influence won't save him this time. Mrs. Jorgenson's perfectly manicured nails tap against the table in a nervous rhythm.
After what feels like an eternity, Margaret speaks. "The board votes unanimously to expel Kyle Jorgenson from Riverside Academy, effective immediately. We're also recommending his parents seek professional psychiatric evaluation and treatment."
"You can't do this," Mr. Jorgenson stands, his voice rising. "We'll sue. We'll take this to every news outlet in the state."
"That's your prerogative," Margaret says calmly. "But the evidence is clear. Your son has engaged in stalking behavior, vandalism, and created a hostile environment for a staff member. We have a duty to protect our teachers and students."
Kyle finally speaks, his voice cold and flat. "This isn't over, Miss Wilson. You think you've won, but you haven't."
The threat hangs in the air like smoke. Security appears at the door, and the Jorgensons are escorted out. Kyle's gray eyes bore into mine until the door closes behind them.
I sit in the empty conference room for a long moment, letting the reality sink in. It's over. Kyle is gone. The first breath of relief I've felt in weeks fills my lungs.
Margaret touches my shoulder gently. "You did the right thing, Miss Wilson. And for what it's worth, the board is reviewing your suspension. Given the circumstances, we believe you were unfairly targeted."
The words should bring more relief, but I'm too exhausted to feel much of anything except a bone-deep weariness.
That evening, I drive to Jack's house with the windows down, letting the cool air clear my head. Blake's truck is already in the driveway, and Noah's sedan pulls in right behind me.
Jack opens the door before I can knock, his hazel eyes searching my face. "How did it go?"
"He's expelled." The words come out on a laugh that sounds slightly hysterical. "Kyle is gone. They believed me."
Blake appears behind Jack, his broad shoulders filling the doorway. "That's my girl." His brown eyes are warm with pride and something hotter that makes my core clench.
Noah moves past both of them and pulls me into his arms. "You were brilliant. I knew you would be."
Inside, Jack pours wine while Blake orders pizza. We settle in the living room, and for the first time in weeks, the conversation flows easily. We laugh about Kyle's parents' faces when thesecurity footage was shown. We toast to small victories and the possibility of more to come.
"The board is reviewing my suspension," I say, accepting a second glass of wine. "Margaret thinks they'll reinstate me."
"Of course they will," Jack says, his voice carrying that authoritative principal tone. "You did nothing wrong."
Blake moves closer on the couch, his muscular thigh pressing against mine. "This calls for a real celebration."
