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“Rick, I’m going to be as clear as possible. Tell me what the fuck is going on.”
“Is this some sort of power move? I will not be intimidated by you, Mr. Vaughn. The school is fully prepared to back my decision with our legal team. Having a sexual relationship with your daughter’s teacher isn’t illegal, but paying her for it is and we have proof—video and audio evidence that will be presented in court if this were to get that far.”
I’m trying to make sense of what Rick is saying to me. “Let me get this straight. You fired Daphne for sleeping with me because you think I was paying her to? And now you’re threatening me?”
“It’s not a threat. I’m merely telling you that should you think you can somehow pay your way out of this, we not only have evidence, but a credible source that is willing to testify.”
“Who?” I say, leaning forward as I plant my hands on his desk. He sits back in his chair.
“That’s none of your business.”
I push off his desk, laughing. “Do you have any fucking clue who I am, Rick? You think I won’t find out who did this and completely destroy them and you? We both know that I never fucking paid Daphne for sex and the fact that you are not only accusing the woman I love of being a whore, but you fired her for it, you sealed your fucking fate.” I point my finger in his fat face. “Mark my words, Rick, I’m going to destroy you.”
I march out of his office and back upstairs, opening Daisy’s classroom door.
“Mr. Vaughn, what ar—”
“Daisy, let’s go,” I say, walking over to grab her stuff. She jumps out of her seat, following behind me as we exit the building.
“Where are we going?” I help her into the back seat with me.
“Grandma’s house.”
I explain things as briefly as possible to my mother once we get to her place.
“I’m heading over to her place to see if she’s home. She’s not picking up.”
“What did I tell you, Weston?” my mother barks at me in a hushed tone so Daisy doesn’t hear us.
“I’m really not in the mood for a lecture, Mom. I’m going to fix this. Just please don’t say anything about Daphne in front of Daisy.”
I head straight to her apartment, pounding on the door, but there’s no answer. I let myself in, bracing for an empty apartment, but all her stuff still seems to be here.
“Daphne?” I walk in further, calling out for her but there’s no answer. I check her bedroom and bathroom; everything seems normal.
* * *
I twirlmy tumbler on my desk as I stare at my phone. Still no response from Daphne. I stand up, pacing my office floor again as I try to figure out who would do this. My immediate thought was Natalie. She’s the only person I know of who knew about me and Daphne. She walked into her classroom one day while we were in there, but how would she have gotten any video or audio recording of us? Unless Rick is bluffing, but I can’t imagine he would threaten me without any sort of actual evidence or what he thought was evidence. He knows I’m way too powerful to just sit back on an idle threat.
Is this blackmail? Is it money he wants?
I sit back down, pulling up the teacher list at Crestwood. I find Preston’s last name, typing it in Google, but nothing is standing out. I rub my eyes. I know they’re bloodshot after staring at this screen for hours. I feel like I’ve failed Daphne but I’m not giving up.
“Think,” I say aloud as I drill my fingers on my desk. Then it hits me. “Steve.” He’s the only person who would have seen us together. I think back on that night when I met him, the way his door was open a sliver, slamming shut after I saw him watching us. “How would he know?” I type in his name and the building but nothing comes up.
What would he have to gain by getting her fired?
I know it wouldn’t take much for him to find out where she worked or maybe she told him in casual conversation.
I give up on that theory for now, instead typing in Rick Fein’s name in hopes there’s some dirt I can dig up to blackmail him with. Everyone has a few skeletons in their closet. I find his social media profile that’s full of photos. I start to click through them, looking at faces and names, none of which stand out to me.
My phone buzzes, the front office of my building calling me. I glance at my watch; it’s nearing ten p.m.
“Hello?”
“Evening, Mr. Vaughn. Apologies for the late call, but you have a visitor. Miss Flowers, should I send her up?”
I jump out of my chair. “Yes, please.” I run my hands through my hair, downing a glass of water and adjusting my shirt before darting to the elevator just as it opens.
