HIS FAVORITE SIN!

Dead air

Rowan

I stood. It was time. If I stayed a second longer, I might end up with a criminal record. And frankly, getting one over a child who just happened to share the same name as that w***e wasn’t worth it.

I moved past the cluster of them with effortless ease, deliberately locking eyes with Danielle on my way out. She looked ready to break, the kind of look that said she wanted to chase after me, beg me to stay, explain herself like always. She was always trying to clean up Anna Lindsey’s messes—like some loyal little firefighter dousing the flames of a burning legacy. Her aunt’s filth ran deep, and Danielle kept polishing s**t hoping it would sparkle.

But her little trembling smiles didn’t work on me.

Not anymore.

Not after I’d held her when she shattered in my arms, crying over a man who was never meant to be taken. Not when the only thing I wanted from her was release, not love. That’s the real nature of us. She’s a good girl, polite, knows the rules. Knows not to ask for more than what I give. And because of that, I kept her around.

“Mr. Rici?” Naidoo’s voice cracked through the tension like cheap glass. “Did we take too much of your time? I’m sorry the meeting’s dragging—”

I cut her off with a sharp shake of my head. Did you waste my time? Absolutely. But was that why I was leaving? Not entirely.

“You’re the headmistress,” I replied coolly, voice flat. “How could I possibly blame you for wasting my time?”

She flinched. Good.

“I just have other things to attend to before class,” I added, stepping toward the door, fingers curling around the handle.

I didn’t miss the way Anna Lindsey’s shoulders curled in, how her neck seemed to shrink into that cheap hoodie like a mouse scurrying from a shadow. I also didn’t miss the bruise she was trying to hide beneath the collar—like covering it would erase it. Not my problem. Not my concern. In fact, the very sight of her made me itch. I would’ve added another bruise just to knock the pathetic out of her eyes.

But I had better ways to break people.

“However…” I said, pausing with my back turned, hand still on the handle, voice laced with bored cruelty.

“I’m afraid that last opinion I heard will be nullified.”

Dead silence.

“There is no place in this room for someone who, as Madame Quinton so eloquently put it, lacks deep pockets and strong family backing.

A beat passed.

“I’m doing everyone a favor when I say this: listening to a scholarship kid’s fears about a book our art instructor sees as artistic over mere sponsors… will only drain this place of quality. Schools go gray when they listen to the wrong people.”

I could hear Naidoo’s breath hitch behind me. Felt the tension thicken like smoke in a sealed room.

“After all,” I continued, voice now soft but slicing, “those who care the most about money are usually the ones who don’t have it.”

I didn’t turn to look. Didn’t need to. I could feel them squirming. The silence tasted like control.

“Understood?”

I hated how long they took to respond. Hated that they hesitated like they had a choice.

Madame Quinton was the first to recover. Brave little artist, always pretending her brushes could paint over rot.

“Although I don’t agree with the way you put it, Rowan, we can’t disregard Anna’s feelings about—”

“Can’t?” I turned just enough to raise a brow. “Or won’t?”

She shut up.

"ahem" she cleared her throat then looked up again

“I take it I have your support, Mr. Rici?” she asked, voice strained, still pretending this was a negotiation.

I gave her a sharp smile. The kind that cut without showing teeth.

She grinned in return like a wild woman. Naïve. Reckless.

Money. That's all it came down to.

Naidoo bent forward again, as if her spine had no will of its own. “Ah, yes… what Madam Quinton said,” she mumbled.

Of course she did. Again Money.

Having a surname like mine makes people forget their pride. They bow like hounds. I used to hate it. Today, I didn’t mind so much.

I nodded once.

My message was clear—whether they admitted it or not, whether they wanted to swallow it or choke on it: Anna Lindsey’s words meant nothing. Her voice had no weight. Her opinions? Dead air.

She was nothing but a leech riding my family’s name for a scholarship.

And worse, she was blood to a woman who had shattered a family—Danielle’s family—just like my mother had shattered mine. Cheating, lying, slithering women. They didn’t deserve to exist in the same air as me.

Anna would never be forgiven for sharing that bloodline. Even if she had no part in it. I didn’t care.

I pulled out my phone.

Typed:

" Send Anna a little somerset to remind her of her misery.”

Send.

I walked out.

And the silence I left behind was the only applause I needed.