Translation: make it easier for schools to punish girls again.
The bill’s sponsor was Senator Whitmore.
Smiling face. Perfect teeth. Soft voice. The kind of man who could ruin your life while sounding like he was blessing you.
Lila watched his press conference on mute.
“He’s lying,” she said.
“Yes,” I replied. “And he’ll do it with paperwork.”
She nodded. “Then we’ll beat him with paperwork,” she said.
We prepared testimony, data, survivor statements—everything that had passed the law the first time.
Then Lila got a message from an unknown number.
Don’t show up. We can’t protect you.
She showed it to me.
“Who sent that?” I asked.Lila’s eyes narrowed. “Someone who knows how these halls work,” she said.
Two hours later, I found out who.
My phone rang.
A number I hadn’t seen in years.
I answered, and for a second I heard breathing—familiar.
Then a voice.
“Hey,” it said. “It’s me.”
My jaw tightened. “Evan.”
My brother.
We hadn’t spoken since the year he told me I’d “brought danger home” and then used my absence as an excuse to take what he could from our father’s estate. He’d always been good at turning other people’s sacrifices into his resentments.
“I heard what’s happening,” Evan said. His voice was warm, almost brotherly.
Too warm.
“What do you want?” I asked.
A pause. Then: “I work for Whitmore now.”
There it was.
Not a confession. A declaration.
“You’re on his staff,” I said.
“I’m his chief strategist,” Evan replied. “And I’m calling because I can help you.”
I laughed once—short, humorless. “You can help me by disappearing.”
Evan exhaled, annoyed. “Don’t be dramatic,” he said. “You and I both know Lila is making enemies. Powerful ones.”
“You mean the kind you like,” I said.
His voice hardened. “She’s poking at institutions,” he said. “Schools. Police. The whole structure. Whitmore is going to win this.”
“No,” I said. “He’s going to try.”
Evan lowered his voice, as if that made him reasonable. “Look,” he said, “I can make the bill softer. I can write exemptions. I can protect her center. But she has to stop—”
“Stop what?” I cut in. “Stop making boys accountable?”
Evan’s sigh sounded practiced. “Stop humiliating the state,” he snapped. “Stop making men look like monsters.”
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