Page 13 of Single Dad's Fake Bride
I threw a few more combinations, working out the last of my frustration on the leather and canvas, then followed him toward the locker room.
My phone buzzed as I was gathering my gear.
A text message from Margot.
Margot: 10:23 PM: You're not going to win this. Walk away while you still can.
I stared at the screen, fury building in my chest.
My sisters had spent their entire adult lives playing the dutiful daughters, attending family functions and school events, writing checks to the annual fund and serving on committees.
But they had never cared about the school itself—only about the social status and financial benefits that came with the Vale name.
They wanted my father's money, not his mission.
They saw Hawthorne as an asset to be managed, not a community to be served.
And they were willing to destroy everything he'd built rather than let me have the chance to preserve it.
I deleted the message without responding and headed for the parking lot.
Eighty-six days to find a wife and save a school.
Juan was right—I needed to stop overthinking and start acting.
But first, I needed to figure out if Sadie Quinn was the solution I'd been looking for or just another complication in an already impossible situation.
4
SADIE
The afternoon had been chaos from start to finish.
By dismissal time, I felt as wrung out as a dishrag.
The students filed out in their usual stampede of backpacks and chatter, leaving behind the familiar debris of childhood education—crumpled papers, forgotten lunch boxes, and one mysteriously damp mitten that nobody claimed.
I was stacking chairs on desks when I heard footsteps in the hallway.
Most teachers had left already, and the custodial staff wouldn't arrive for another hour.
I glanced toward the door, expecting to see a parent retrieving forgotten homework or a colleague making the rounds.
Instead, Harrison Vale stood in the doorway, hands tucked into his coat pockets, that familiar expression of careful observation on his face.
"Mr. Vale." I set down the chair I'd been holding and smoothed my cardigan. "Is everything all right? Did Eloise forget her backpack?"
"No, she's at home working on a book report."
He stepped into the classroom, his gray eyes taking in the organized chaos of my end-of-day routine. "I was driving by and saw your car in the lot. Thought I'd check in."
The explanation felt thin given that he'd left the school only forty minutes ago to take her home, but I nodded as if it made perfect sense for the parent of a student to drop by unannounced after school hours.
"How's the book report going?"
I kept moving, picking things up, cleaning the space so I wouldn't stand there feeling awkward.
"She's writing aboutAnne of Green Gables, naturally. Five pages on character development and thematic elements." His mouth curved into a smirk. "I suspect she's going to exceed the assignment requirements by a considerable margin."
