Page 215 of Broken by my Bully

I keep expecting her to take the easy way out. But she must really want to turn her life around, because she’s exceeded all my expectations.

Even now, tonight, with little to no preparation, she’s standing on that stage like she belongs there, and she’ll go toe-to-toe with anyone who has a different opinion.

And earlier today when I was with her? I pushed, and she shoved right back. Maybe sheisunbreakable. Maybe shewillthrive, despite the darkness. Makes sense. She’s just like me.

Born in darkness. Shaped by it.

That’s why I chose her.

Not to save her, but to see if she’d become what I did.

Dean Winslow takes the podium as soon as Haven leaves, the stately woman’s voice steady despite the nervous way her eyes flicker around the crowd. She’s already in damage-control mode, and no wonder. Many people—manydonors—won’t like the way Haven just addressed them, especially just as nameless faces in the crowd.

No one enjoys being just another ‘them’.

Melissa grabs Haven’s arms, the two of them disappearing into the dark off-stage. I’m tempted to find them, to get Haven alone, but there are a lot of watchful eyes here tonight, and Haven’s put a target on her back.

I won’t be collateral damage.

The night is young, and even after that performance, I doubt Haven will leave soon.

I take a sip of my champagne, glancing over my shoulder for a colleague I can talk to while I bide my time. Most I dismiss. I’d have more fun telling people on Reddit AITA threads that yes, YTA.

Someone crashes into my shoulder, sending champagne sloshing over my tuxedo sleeve.

A young voice mutters, “Jesus, fuck.”

I turn to Kai, eyebrows raised. “Nice to see you, too.”

He glances down at my soaked sleeve and then tries to go around me. I sidestep, blocking his way. I’m not used to people ignoring me.

“You’re in an awful hurry, Mr. Jordan.”

“Yeah, uh, sorry, I got to do some shit.” He tries to sidle off, but I catch his arm. His muscles tense under my grip.

“I’m talking to you.”

Kai wrenches himself free with such a frown that I huff at him through my nose. He quickly shakes off his urgency, face relaxing into something more mellow, but green eyes still alert, earnest…if a little bloodshot.

“Sorry, Professor. It’s just, I’ve got to take the donations out back…?” He hikes a thumb over his shoulder, taking a slow step back. “We can catch up later. Right?”

I study him for a moment, and then set my glass down on a server’s tray as they walk past. “Let me help.”

Panic flashes over my student’s face. He probably thinks he’s going to get into trouble for being stoned. Would it make him feel better knowing I have a gram of coke in my pocket?

Ezra’s brother has only been my TA for a few months, but I’ve taken a liking to him.

He’s smart—when he’s focused. Fortunately for him, he finds my class interesting enough that getting him to focus isn’t the chore it used to be with my previous assistants.

But there’s something about him I just can’t pinpoint.

He disappears into his own thoughts sometimes. Zoning out to where I can stare openly at him and he doesn’t seem to notice.

It could be ADHD. He could even be on the spectrum. But I’m convinced it’s trauma. Takes one to know one, after all.

The way he flinches at loud noises. How uncomfortable he gets when I’m terse with him. He’s constantly gauging my mood, like a weather vane. I’m guessing it saved his skin a few times in the past, getting out before the tornado hit.

Just like Haven. Just like me, once upon a time. Before I learned to be the one causing the flinching.