EPISODE SEVEN: PRESSURE POINTS
1259 Words
The disciplinary hearing was scheduled for Thursday morning.
By Wednesday night, everyone on campus knew.
Westbridge University had a way of pretending its messes didn’t exist—until it wanted to make an example of someone. When that happened, the process was clinical, quiet, and devastatingly efficient.
Jaxon Reed was the example.
He sat alone in his dorm room, laptop open but untouched, staring at the email outlining the “concerns.”
Aggressive behavior.
Repeated disturbances.
Inappropriate influence.
He laughed bitterly.
None of it was new. None of it was true in the way they wanted it to be. It was a pattern he recognized too well—language polished enough to sound neutral, sharp enough to cut him off at the knees.
His phone buzzed.
Ava: Where are you?
He hesitated before replying.
Jaxon: Dorm.
Three dots appeared. Disappeared. Appeared again.
Ava: I’m coming.
He closed his eyes.
⸻
Ava didn’t knock when she reached his door.
She knocked once—then opened it.
Jaxon looked up, surprise flickering across his face before he masked it. “You shouldn’t be here.”
She shut the door behind her. “You don’t get to decide that.”
She crossed the room and stopped in front of him, eyes scanning his face, the tension in his shoulders.
“They’re trying to break you,” she said quietly.
“They’ve been trying,” he replied. “This is just louder.”
She reached for his hands. He let her.
“I talked to the dean,” she said.
His head snapped up. “You what?”
“I requested to attend the hearing.”
His jaw tightened. “Ava—”
“I’m not asking permission,” she said firmly. “I’m involved now.”
“This isn’t your fight,” he snapped, fear edging his voice.
“Yes, it is,” she shot back. “They’re using me as leverage whether I like it or not.”
He exhaled sharply, pulling his hands away and standing. “You don’t understand what this could do to you.”
She stepped closer. “I understand exactly.”
He turned to face her, eyes dark. “Your father—”
“Will survive,” she interrupted. “So will my reputation. You might not.”
Silence fell.
Jaxon stared at her like he was seeing her for the first time.
“You’re really doing this,” he said.
“Yes.”
“Why?” he asked quietly.
She didn’t hesitate. “Because you didn’t walk away when it was easier.”
Something in his expression broke.
He turned away, dragging a hand down his face. “I don’t want you caught in the fallout.”
She stepped into his space, pressing her hand against his chest. “Too late.”
He looked down at her, conflict raging in his eyes.
“You scare me,” he admitted.
She smiled sadly. “Good. That means it matters.”
⸻
Thursday morning arrived heavy and gray.
The disciplinary committee room was small, windowless, and deliberately intimidating. Three faculty members sat behind a long table, expressions carefully neutral.
Jaxon sat alone on one side.
Until the door opened.
Ava walked in.
Every head turned.
Jaxon’s breath caught.
She looked composed—perfect posture, calm expression, polished to perfection. The Ava Montgomery Westbridge expected.
But her eyes met his, and in them was fire.
“Ava Montgomery,” one of the faculty members said sharply. “This is not necessary.”
“It is,” Ava replied calmly. “I requested to attend as a character witness.”
A murmur rippled through the room.
Jaxon stood. “She doesn’t need to—”
“I want to,” Ava said firmly.
The chairperson sighed. “Very well.”
The hearing began.
They listed the accusations one by one.
Jaxon listened without reacting, jaw set.
Then they turned to Ava.
“Miss Montgomery,” the chairperson said. “Why are you here?”
Ava folded her hands neatly on the table. “Because the narrative being constructed about Mr. Reed is incomplete.”
“In what way?” another faculty member asked.
“You are judging him based on reputation,” Ava said. “Not reality.”
“And you know his reality?” the chairperson pressed.
“Yes,” Ava replied. “I do.”
Jaxon’s chest tightened.
“Explain.”
Ava took a steady breath. “Jaxon Reed is not aggressive. He is protective. He is not disruptive. He challenges systems that assume silence equals compliance.”
“That sounds like bias,” one faculty member said.
Ava met her gaze. “So does targeting a scholarship student because he doesn’t fit comfortably into your institution’s image.”
The room went still.
“That’s a serious accusation,” the chairperson warned.
“So are yours,” Ava replied evenly.
Jaxon stared at her, stunned.
“Have you been influenced by a personal relationship?” the chairperson asked pointedly.
Ava didn’t flinch. “If by influence you mean I’ve seen him show restraint, kindness, and integrity when no one was watching—then yes.”
Jaxon swallowed hard.
“You risk your own standing by speaking this way,” the faculty member warned.
Ava nodded. “I’m aware.”
The hearing ended with no verdict.
Just a promise of deliberation.
As they walked out, Jaxon stopped her in the hallway.
“What you did in there—” His voice broke. “You shouldn’t have had to.”
She cupped his face gently. “I chose to.”
He leaned into her touch for just a second before pulling back.
“This makes you a target,” he said.
She smiled faintly. “I’ve been one my whole life. At least now I know why.”
⸻
The backlash was immediate.
By afternoon, Ava’s name was trending in campus forums.
Montgomery defends Reed.
Is the heiress rebelling?
Scandal brewing.
Her father called.
She didn’t answer.
Serena cornered her outside the student center.
“You’re really enjoying the drama,” Serena sneered.
Ava looked at her coolly. “You’re enjoying causing it.”
Serena laughed. “You think you won something today?”
Ava stepped closer. “I think you’re scared.”
Serena’s smile faltered. “Of what?”
“Of being irrelevant,” Ava said softly. “Of not being chosen.”
Serena’s eyes flashed. “You don’t know anything about me.”
“I know you’re cruel when you feel invisible,” Ava replied. “And I know you’re not done.”
Serena’s lips curved slowly. “Neither are you.”
⸻
That night, Jaxon found Ava sitting alone in the library.
“You okay?” he asked quietly.
She nodded. “I will be.”
He sat beside her, close but not touching.
“They might still rule against me,” he said.
“I know,” she replied.
“And if they do…”
She turned to face him. “Then we fight the next battle.”
He studied her. “You’re changing.”
She smiled. “So are you.”
Silence settled between them.
“I’m scared,” he admitted.
“Me too,” she said.
He reached for her hand this time—and held it.
Outside the library doors, someone watched.
Serena typed furiously.
She sent an email.
To: University Board
Subject: Evidence Regarding Jaxon Reed
Attached files uploaded.
Screenshots.
Videos.
Edited half-truths.
She leaned back in her chair, satisfied.
If Ava Montgomery wanted war—
She’d make sure it burned.
- Writer
