Chapter 9
The letter accused my dad of taking bribes from students' parents while he was teaching and even claimed he'd had an improper relationship with a female coworker. Putting accusations like that on an old teacher who had lived clean his whole life was cruel to the bone.
The Board of Education had already formed an investigation team. Everyone knew the claims were nonsense, but the process still had to be followed. Meanwhile, the story had already spread through my dad's old circle of colleagues.
"Dad, that's impossible." I shot to my feet. My father had lived his whole life clean and upright. There was no way he could have done something like that.
"It was Andrew, wasn't it?" My voice was shaking. I couldn't think of a second person who would sink this low.
My dad didn't answer. He only lit another cigarette, his eyes full of exhaustion and disappointment. "He's trying to force my hand."
Looking at my father's aging profile, my chest hurt so badly I could barely breathe. "He knows he can't break me directly, so now he's trying to tear down my defenses through you and Mom."
A bone-deep chill rose inside me and spread through every part of my body. I had never thought a person could be this shameless.
Just to get what he wanted, he was willing to go after my elderly parents, people who had done nothing to anyone. He had crossed my final line. Whatever tie remained between us as husband and wife snapped in that moment, torn apart by his own hand. I couldn't stay calm anymore or stand by and watch.
I took out the new SIM card I'd bought, put it into my phone, and found the number I knew by heart. Then I called. He picked up almost instantly.
"Lottie?" Andrew's voice came through, trying and failing to hide the surprise and urgency in it. He probably thought his stunt had worked and that I was finally ready to bow my head.
But my voice was cold as ice. "Andrew Shaw, let's meet. I pick the place. Right now." I chose a 24-hour cafe not far from home.
When I got there, Andrew was already waiting. He had chosen a booth by the window, sitting with his back to the entrance, posture still straight.
It had only been a little over ten days, but he looked like someone had been drained dry. Even sitting there, the heavy fatigue and restlessness on him were obvious.
At the sound of my footsteps, he turned sharply. The second he saw me, light burst back into his dim eyes. He stood and strode toward me, his face full of desperate relief.
"Lottie, you finally agreed to see me." He reached out, trying to take my hand the way he always used to. I stepped aside and avoided him.
His hand froze in midair, and the smile on his face stiffened. I ignored the hurt in his eyes, walked past him, and sat down across from where he'd been.
"Sit. I don't have much time." My tone held no warmth at all. The light in his eyes faded little by little, replaced by tightly held irritation. He took a deep breath and sat down too.
"What do you want to drink?" he asked, trying to soften the mood. "Nothing." I cut him off. "I'm not here to drink coffee with you."
I lifted my eyes and looked straight at him. The eyes that had once made me lose myself now held nothing but calculation and distance.
"What happened at my dad's school, that was you, right?" I got straight to the point. I had no interest in wasting words.
His pupils tightened slightly, then he went calm again. He picked up his coffee, took a sip, and neither admitted it nor denied it. "I don't know what you're talking about," he said lightly.
"As long as you come home with me, all this ugly mess will disappear right away." He still had that same high-and-mighty tone, like he was handing out a favor. As if my dad's good name and my dignity were bargaining chips he could give or take whenever he pleased.
His attitude was so absurd it made me laugh in anger. "Andrew Shaw, you really make me sick." My words hit him like a slap, and his face darkened on the spot.