Page 97 of Boards & Betrayal

I heard someone shouting my name in the background but couldn't stop myself. The sight of Ally cradling her jaw fueled my rage even further.

In that moment, nothing else mattered but making him pay for what he'd done.

I couldn’t stop. Each punch I threw felt like a release, but also a curse. Nick had crossed an unforgivable line. The sounds around me—the gasps, the shouts—blurred into white noise.

“Thomas, stop!” Ally’s voice cut through the haze, desperate and pained.

I paused, fists clenched, breath ragged. Nick lay beneath me, bloodied and bruised. The room fell silent except for the heavy breathing of everyone around us. My team had formed a circle, unsure whether to intervene or stand down.

The distant wail of sirens pierced through the air. It grew louder, closer, until red and blue lights flashed outside the ballroom windows. Panic settled into my gut as I realized what was coming next.

"That's your son," Ally said.

"I don't give a shit," I spat. "He touched you. He hurt you."

The police burst through the doors, shouting commands that echoed off the walls. “Step back! Hands where we can see them!”

I lifted my hands slowly, stepping away from Nick’s crumpled form. The officers moved in quickly, separating us. They cuffed me without hesitation, their grip firm and unyielding.

Ally rushed to my side, her eyes wide with fear and concern. “Thomas,” she whispered, her voice trembling.

“I’m sorry,” I muttered as they pulled me away. My heart twisted at the sight of her bruised jaw. I’d failed her in more ways than one tonight.

The officers led me out of the ballroom and into the cold night air. I glanced back at Ally one last time, catching her gaze. The worry etched on her face tore at my insides.

As they shoved me into the back of a squad car, all I could think about was how badly I’d screwed up. I could give a shit that my son lay beaten on a ballroom floor.

But Ally.

Ally was hurt because of me.

Regret gnawed at me like a relentless beast as we drove away from the hotel. Every decision I’d made tonight felt like another nail in the coffin of whatever fragile future I’d hoped to build with her.

Sitting in that squad car, wrists bound and heart heavy, I realized just how deeply I might have ruined everything.

And there was no taking it back.

Chapter 29

Ally

It had been three days. Three days since Nick told Tom everything. Three days since my world upended. I tried not to count the passage of time, but the ticking clock in my head betrayed me. Every second dragged like an anchor, and focusing on class felt like trying to hold sand in my hands.

My photography professor droned on about the rule of thirds, but my mind wandered. I wondered where Tom was now, what he was doing. Rumor had it that he went to Newport Beach for a possible coaching position. The thought made my chest tighten. I should feel happy for him, proud even. But all I felt was conflicted.

I missed him more than I cared to admit. The warmth of his touch, the intensity in his eyes, the way he made me feel seen—like I mattered. My fingers itched to scroll through old photos of us on my phone, but I resisted. The memories were too raw.

"Ally, are you with us?" Professor Marks' voice cut through my haze.

"Yeah, sorry," I mumbled, snapping back to reality. A few classmates shot me sympathetic glances.

I decided I'd stop by River Styx and grab something after class. Anything to get out of this room that felt like a prison cell today.

The moment Professor Marks dismissed us, I practically bolted out of the classroom. His parting words echoed in my mind: "Remember, finals are next week. And then you're done."

My heart skipped a beat. Done. The word carried a weight I wasn't ready to shoulder. What would life look like after this? My future felt like a blank canvas, but instead of excitement, it filled me with dread.

I needed a distraction, something to ground me. River Styx was my go-to for that—a small on-campus café tucked between the art building and the library. Its mismatched furniture and eclectic decor made it feel more like someone's living room than a coffee shop. String lights hung from the ceiling, casting a warm glow over the worn leather couches and vintage posters adorning the walls.

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