Then, his pride violently reasserted itself.
“You psychotic old witch,” Richard snarled, throwing the car into park and killing the engine. He shoved the heavy door open, stepping out to tower over me. “Green Hill is my home. My father built that estate. You think because you overheard my dad’s company name on the news you can sit in the dirt and play pretend?”
He pulled his own phone from his pocket, his face pale with fury.
“You want to play games? Let’s play. I’m calling Headmaster Davis right now. You’re not just getting fired, Ella. I’m going to make sure the police lock you up for theft.”
He dialed aggressively, pacing back and forth beside the Ferrari. “Yeah, Davis? It’s Richard Sterling. Get out to the student parking lot. Right now. Your cafeteria worker just assaulted me and scratched my car. I want her gone before I call my father’s lawyers.”
He hung up, breathing heavily, pointing a trembling finger at me. “You are finished. You hear me? Finished.”
I finally moved. I placed my hands on my knees and pushed myself up from the asphalt. My joints ached, and my apron was ruined, but I stood tall. I dusted off my slacks with slow, deliberate strokes.
“Your father didn’t build Green Hill, Richard,” I said softly, my voice carrying easily across the distance between us. “He merely leased the dirt it sits on. And as of sixty seconds ago, that dirt no longer belongs to him.”
Richard opened his mouth to scream another insult, but the sound of hurried, heavy footsteps interrupted him.
Headmaster Davis, a tall, perpetually anxious man in a tight gray suit, came sprinting out of the main administration building. His face was slick with sweat. Oakridge Academy relied heavily on the massive annual donations Charles Sterling provided. Davis treated Richard not as a student, but as a crucial, volatile investor.
“Richard! My apologies, I came as quickly as I could,” Davis gasped, slowing to a halt and adjusting his tie. He immediately turned his glare on me, his expression hardening with contempt. “Ella. What is the meaning of this? Why are you not in the kitchen?”
“She scratched my car, Davis,” Richard lied flawlessly, stepping closer to the headmaster. “And she stole a high-end corporate phone from somewhere in the building. She’s completely unhinged. I want her fired and off this campus immediately.”
Headmaster Davis didn’t ask for my side of the story. He didn’t look at my scraped hands or the scattered bottles that clearly indicated I had been knocked down. He only saw the billionaire’s son pointing an angry finger at the expendable staff member.
“Ella, hand over your security badge,” Davis ordered, stepping toward me with his hand outstretched, his voice dripping with condescension. “You are terminated, effective immediately. Empty your pockets and wait by the gate. I will be calling the police regarding the stolen phone.”
I looked at Davis’s outstretched hand. I felt the familiar weight of the signet ring resting against my chest.
Before I could speak, the encrypted smartphone in my hand buzzed with a sharp, double vibration. The screen lit up with a secure text message from David Baker.
Strike authorized. Eviction teams have breached the Green Hill gates. Default notices successfully delivered.
I looked up from the screen, my eyes meeting Headmaster Davis’s furious glare, and a cold, genuine smile spread across my face.
CHAPTER 3
The afternoon wind swept through the parking lot, rustling the autumn leaves, but the humans stood frozen in a tableau of rising tension. Headmaster Davis kept his hand aggressively outstretched, his face reddening as my smile deepened.
“Did you not hear me, Ella?” Davis snapped, his voice cracking slightly as the gathered students stepped closer to watch the spectacle. “Hand over the badge. Now. Do not make me call campus security to physically remove you.”
I looked at the cheap plastic clip on my lapel that bore the name ELLA in block letters. I unclipped it smoothly and dropped it onto the asphalt, right beside one of the crushed water bottles.
“I won’t be needing it anymore, William,” I said, using his first name with a casual authority that made him blink in shock. Staff did not call the headmaster by his first name. “But you misunderstand the situation. You cannot fire me.”