Bethel's POV
I spent the better part of an hour lying face-down on my bed, phone abandoned somewhere in the sheets, mentally composing and discarding a dozen different speeches for whenever my father decided to ambush me about the blog post. Half of them started with "Dad, I can explain." None of them actually explained anything, because I had nothing to explain — which somehow made the whole situation worse, like being accused of a crime I hadn't committed but couldn't prove I hadn't committed either.
A knock interrupted my spiral.
"Come in."
Mr. Bayo poked his head through the door, tray in hand, eyebrows already raised at the sight of me sprawled dramatically across my own bed like a Victorian woman who'd just received bad news by letter.
"Should I be worried," he asked, setting th
