Page 67 of Single Dad's Fake Bride
“Goodnight.”
The door clicked shut behind her, and the house felt hollow again. I stood there a moment before heading to my desk. Iwasn’t ready to go to bed. My head was too full, the conversation replaying on a loop I couldn’t turn off.
I sat down, flicking my phone awake, half-expecting some late email from the board or one of the contractors working on the science building renovation. My inbox loaded, and one subject line jumped out like a flare.
Anonymous tip – inappropriate relationship at Hawthorne Academy
My pulse spiked. I opened it. The message was short, formal, and addressed to the entire board. One of the members was accusing me of having an affair with a staff member—except the name in the email wasn’t Sadie’s.
It was someone else entirely.
My mind immediately started calculating the fallout. Even if the accusation wasn’t about Sadie, it didn’t matter. The optics were bad enough on their own. Now I had two potential scandals in play—one the board knew about, one they didn’t.
I leaned back in my chair, the phone still in my hand. This was the kind of thing that needed to be shut down before it gained traction, before rumors became fact in the minds of people who wanted me out. But it was late, and there was nothing I could do until morning.
I locked my phone, tossed it on the desk, and stared at the ceiling. Tomorrow was going to be a war.
16
SADIE
Iheard the rumors before first period started.
Harrison Vale—new headmaster—had been seen with one of the teachers. The whispers followed me down the hallway as I walked to my classroom, fragments of conversation that made my stomach twist.
"—completely inappropriate?—"
"—after hours in the library?—"
"—knew something was going on?—"
I unlocked my classroom door and stepped inside, trying to block out the voices. But the damage was done. The seed of doubt had been planted, and now it was growing roots.
I knew the woman they were talking about. Not well, but well enough to recognize her in the faculty lounge. A substitute teacher covering in the upper grades. Pretty, young, eager to please. The kind of woman who would be flattered by attention from someone in Harrison's position.
Was she the reason he'd kissed me last night? Some twisted way of managing his guilt over sleeping with someone else? Or was he playing both of us, trying to choose the lesser of two evils when picking a mail-order bride?
The thought made me feel sick. I arranged papers on my desk with shaking hands, trying to focus on lesson plans and lunch counts and anything other than the possibility that I was being played by another wealthy man who thought he could have whatever he wanted.
My father had been charming too. Full of promises about the life he was going to give us, the security he would provide. Right up until he decided we weren't worth the trouble anymore.
I'd been so young when he left, but I remembered the pattern. The late nights. The hushed phone calls. The way he'd started asking my mother to trust him even when nothing he did made sense.
Was this the same thing? Harrison insisting our arrangement had to look genuine while he carried on with someone else on the side? A man who had everything handed to him, who'd never had to worry about consequences because his family's money could buy his way out of any situation?
Except Harrison had walked away from that money. Or so he'd told me. But men lied all the time, especially when they wanted something from you. Maybe he'd never given up anything. Maybe he was still the spoiled rich boy who'd gotten his girlfriend pregnant and then scared her away with a prenup.
My students filed in for first period, their backpacks dragging and their voices still heavy with sleep. I smiled at each of them, took attendance, started the day's routine. But underneath the familiar rhythm of teaching, my mind kept circling back to those whispers in the hallway.
The morning dragged by in a haze of math lessons and reading groups. Every time I passed another teacher in the hallway, I wondered if they knew. If they were looking at me and thinking about Harrison, about what they'd heard, about whether I was involved. Because whether or not I wanted it, itwas going to come out that I was marrying him. The board would have our marriage license application soon enough.
During my planning period, I sat alone in my classroom and tried to grade spelling tests. But the words blurred together on the page, and all I could think about was how quickly this arrangement was spiraling beyond my control.
At lunch, my phone buzzed and I picked it up to read a text from Harrison.
Harrison: 11:47 AM: Courthouse at 7 tomorrow morning. We'll tell Eloise afterward, then you can stay for dinner. I'll help you move this weekend. Home health nurse starts with your mother tonight.
I stared at the message until the words burned into my vision. Tomorrow. In less than twenty-four hours, I would be Mrs. Harrison Vale. I would be living in his house, dependent on his income, responsible for his daughter's emotional wellbeing.
