Chapter 3: The Secret Behind Bellmont Academy
I went home that day with a question I couldn't forget.
What did Chloe mean?
This wasn't the first time?
I sat at the kitchen table while my father prepared tea.
He always did small things like that.
The city knew him as someone powerful.
But every evening, he checked if I had enough honey in my tea.
That was the man I knew.
"Dad?""
He looked up.
"Yes?""
"Did you know people were afraid of you before I came to this school?""
He became quiet.
"A little.""
I smiled sadly.
"Everyone knows.""
He put the cup down.
"Emily.""
"What?""
"You are not my reputation.""
I looked toward him.
"You are my daughter.""
His words made me feel better.
But they didn't answer my question.
"What did Chloe mean when she said this wasn't the first time?""
My father's expression changed.
Not anger.
Concern.
"Tell me everything.""
So I did.
I told him about the hallway.
About the cane.
About Chloe's words.
When I finished, he picked up his phone.
"Who are you calling?""
"The person who knows the school better than anyone.""
Twenty minutes later, a woman arrived at our house.
Her name was Elena Rossi.
She was my father's assistant.
But she was also someone I trusted.
She sat beside me.
"Emily, I need you to know something.""
"What?""
"There have been complaints about students at Bellmont.""
"Bullying?""
She hesitated.
"Yes.""
My fingers tightened around my cane.
"Why didn't anyone stop it?""
Nobody answered.
That silence told me everything.
The next morning, my father came with me to school.
Not because I needed protection.
Because he wanted the school to understand something.
I was not invisible.
When we entered the main hall, Mr. Harrison immediately approached.
"Mr. Moretti.""
My father nodded.
"I would like to review the school's disciplinary records.""
The principal's voice changed.
"Those are confidential.""
My father calmly replied,
"Then release them to the appropriate people.""
The principal looked uncomfortable.
Before he could answer, a woman entered.
Mrs. Whitmore.
Chloe's mother.
She was one of the school's biggest donors.
Her heels clicked against the floor.
"Vincent, this is becoming unnecessary.""
My father turned.
"Explain.""
She smiled.
"Children make mistakes. We shouldn't destroy their futures over one incident.""
My father looked at her.
"Interesting.""
"What?""
"You are worried about their futures.""
A pause.
"But who was worried about Emily's?""
Mrs. Whitmore's smile disappeared.
"I think emotions are making you unreasonable.""
My father stepped closer.
"No.""
His voice became quiet.
"Emotions are the reason I am still being polite.""
Nobody spoke.
Then something happened.
A student walked out of the hallway.
A girl.
Older than me.
She stopped when she saw my father.
Then she whispered,
"Mr. Moretti?""
My father looked at her.
"Yes?""
She looked nervous.
"I need to tell you something.""
Mrs. Whitmore immediately interrupted.
"Sarah, don't.""
The girl's voice shook.
"But they did it before.""
The entire hallway went silent.
My father turned toward her.
"Did what before?""
Sarah looked at me.
Then at the principal.
Then she said,
"They have a group chat.""
My stomach dropped.
"What kind of group chat?""
Sarah swallowed.
"The rich kids at this school.""
My father asked,
"What is shared there?""
She hesitated.
Then she answered.
"Videos.""
A cold feeling moved through me.
"Videos of what?""
Sarah looked down.
"Students they think are easy targets.""
Nobody moved.
Then my father's phone rang.
He answered.
The person on the other end spoke quickly.
I couldn't hear everything.
Only my father's response.
"Send me the file.""
A pause.
Then his face changed.
For the first time, I saw something I had never seen before.
Not anger.
Not fear.
Shock.
He slowly looked at me.
"Emily.""
"What?""
His voice became softer.
"They didn't just record what happened yesterday.""
I felt my heartbeat grow louder.
"What else did they record?""
My father looked at the phone screen.
And the name of the person who had uploaded the video appeared.
A name that made the entire hallway go silent.
Because it wasn't Adrian.
May you like
It wasn't Lucas.
It was someone much closer to me.
