CHAPTER 1
I never liked Kevin Baxter. As the senior guidance counselor at Prescott Academy, I was supposed to see the potential in every student, but Kevin made that impossible. He was eighteen years old, possessed a canon of a right arm that had secured two state football championships, and carried himself with the toxic arrogance of a boy who knew his father’s money could buy his way out of any consequence.
Prescott Academy wasn’t just a school. It was an elite Connecticut institution, a massive estate of ivy-covered brick, sprawling manicured lawns, and endowment funds that rivaled small nations. My job was to guide these privileged kids toward the Ivy League, a task made immensely easier by the presence of my therapy dog, Bella. Bella was a golden retriever with a heart of pure empathy, and she spent most of her days sleeping on the rug in my office, letting stressed teenagers bury their faces in her fur.
But Kevin didn’t need therapy. He needed a reality check.
It was a Tuesday afternoon, right at the chaotic peak of the 3:15 PM dismissal. The autumn air was crisp, and the central brick promenade was flooded with students wearing our signature blue and gold blazers. I was walking Bella across the main courtyard, holding her leather leash loosely as she sniffed the crisp fallen leaves.
That was when I saw the matte black Mercedes G-Wagon.
It was parked diagonally across the pedestrian walkway, completely blocking the path to the south gates. Students were being forced to walk through the damp grass just to get around it. Kevin Baxter was sitting in the driver’s seat, the engine rumbling, his music vibrating the tinted windows. Standing right outside the passenger doors were Trent and Chase, two massive offensive linemen who followed Kevin like loyal, brainless enforcers.
And standing directly in front of the vehicle’s massive grille was Elias.
Elias was a mystery to me. He was the school’s head groundskeeper, a quiet man in his late seventies who wore faded canvas overalls and a worn tweed cap. He spent hours meticulously pruning the rose bushes and sweeping the stone walkways. But there were odd things about him. I had once overheard the payroll secretary complaining that Elias hadn’t cashed a single paycheck in three years. More noticeably, he always walked with an incredibly ornate mother-of-pearl cane. It was a stunning antique, easily worth ten thousand dollars, and it looked absurdly out of place in the hands of a man who earned minimum wage.
I tightened my grip on Bella’s leash and started walking faster toward the confrontation.
Elias stood perfectly still, leaning on his beautiful cane. He raised his left hand and gently tapped the metal hood of the G-Wagon. It wasn’t a strike, just a polite knock.
“Please move the vehicle, son,” Elias’s voice carried over the idle of the engine, raspy but steady. “You’re blocking the student walkway.”
The driver’s door flew open so hard it bounced on its hinges.
Kevin Baxter stepped out, his face twisted in an ugly, entitled sneer. He was a foot taller than the old man and eighty pounds heavier. Trent and Chase immediately shifted their weight, stepping away from the passenger side to flank Kevin, forming a wall of blue letterman jackets.
“Don’t you ever touch my car with that piece of garbage,” Kevin spat, stepping directly into Elias’s space.
“The parking lot is for vehicles, Mr. Baxter,” Elias said calmly, not backing down an inch. “This path is for walking. Move it now.”
Kevin laughed, a harsh, humorless sound. He looked back at Trent and Chase, who smirked on cue. The numerical pressure was suffocating. A small crowd of underclassmen had stopped walking, watching the scene with wide, nervous eyes. None of them dared to speak up. Kevin Baxter was the king of the school, and defying him was social suicide.
“Or what, you broke old janitor?” Kevin demanded, stepping closer. “My dad pays the tuition that covers your pathetic salary. I own this path.”
“Your father pays for an education,” Elias corrected softly. “He clearly hasn’t paid for your manners.”
The insult hung in the air for a fraction of a second. Then Kevin snapped.
He lunged forward, shoving both of his heavy hands squarely into Elias’s chest. The violence of it was shocking. The frail old man was thrown backward, his boots skidding across the brickwork. Elias slammed hard against the low stone retaining wall that bordered the azalea bushes, gasping as the breath was knocked out of his lungs.
“Hey!” I yelled, dropping Bella’s leash and sprinting forward. “Baxter, back off right now!”
But Kevin wasn’t finished. As Elias struggled to catch his balance against the stone wall, Kevin stepped in and snatched the mother-of-pearl cane directly out of the old man’s right hand.
Elias reached out, his eyes widening in sudden, raw panic. “No! Don’t—”