Gio appeared in the doorway, impeccable in another tailored suit despite the early hour. He’d been staying at a hotel in town, but his presence seemed to fill the kitchen. He studied the documents without touching them. “This is bigger than a schoolyard fight now,” he said. “Real-estate deals. Corrupt officials. Millions of dollars at stake. These people won’t just back down if you expose them.”
“We have to try,” Malik insisted. “They’re trying to steal our school. Turn our fight into their profit.” “They’ll come at you harder,” Gio warned. “Not just threats. They’ll try to destroy your reputation, your mother’s job, anything they can use.” Rosa straightened up. “Let them try. We have proof now. The property records. The security contracts. The doctored video. Once people see how it all connects—”
“People see what they’re told to see,” Gio cut in. “Trust me on this. I’ve watched plenty of truth get buried under money and influence.” “So we just let them win?” Malik demanded. “Let them use me, use all of us to steal what belongs to everyone?”
Ms. Avery spoke up from where she sat cradling her coffee. “There are still good people in this town. Parents who care about their kids’ education. Teachers who believe in doing what’s right.” “And students who know how to make things go viral,” Rosa added with a fierce grin.
Malik studied the documents again, seeing beyond the legal language to what they really meant. The calculated cruelty. The cold manipulation of people’s lives for profit. His jaw still ached from the fight. And he could smell traces of smoke in Ms. Avery’s borrowed clothes. “The truth is worth it,” he said finally, meeting his father’s eyes. “Even if it’s dangerous. Especially if it’s dangerous.”
Gio was silent for a long moment, then nodded slightly. “Then we make sure the truth hits so hard they can’t bury it.” They spent the next hour planning their next moves. Rosa would compile everything into a digital timeline. Miss Avery would reach out to other teachers quietly. Darlene would contact former coworkers who might have seen similar patterns in Halford’s books.
The cat jumped down from the windowsill and wound between their legs as they talked, perhaps sensing their determination. Outside, the morning grew brighter, sunlight catching on the scattered papers that mapped out corruption in neat typed lines. Malik’s phone buzzed. A text from Kenny. Meet us at the old mill tonight. We can settle this.
He frowned at the screen, reading the message twice. The abandoned paper mill was on the edge of town, empty except for rats and rusted machinery. It was exactly the kind of place someone would choose for an ambush. Malik stared at Kenny’s text message, his stomach tight with suspicion. He showed it to Rosa, who was still organizing documents on the table. “I’m going,” he said, “but I need you to keep your phone on. Be ready.”
Rosa’s eyes widened. “That’s crazy. It’s obviously a trap.” “I know. But if I don’t show up, they’ll say I’m scared.” Malik pocketed the thumb drive with the ledger photos. “Just be ready to record or call for help.”