The Reluctant Heiress

Jillian wasn’t with him. She sat in the backseat of the car being driven by the stalwart Jackson, feeling a little sick and lot angry while she waited for Ben to answer his cell phone. With everyone scrambling to follow the vehicle they’d seen her arrive in, they paid little attention to the dark sedan taking the driveway behind the Dumpsters.

“Schroeder will lead them around long enough for me to get you safely inside your home, Miss Hadley. I’ll have you there in five minutes.”

She thanked the man she’d yet to see crack a smile. Not that she felt anywhere near like smiling herself. As upset as she was, she didn’t even bother to marvel at how effortlessly the two men had coordinated her escape. All she cared about was that Ben had just answered.

“I was just put on leave,” she said without greeting, “because I’m William Kendrick’s daughter. My principal doesn’t think the public’s interest in me is going to die down anytime soon so she’s replacing me. She said my presence is a disruption and a security risk to the students because of all the press and paparazzi, and the school district can’t allow the chaos my situation is already causing. Do you have any idea how incredibly unfair and just plain wrong it is that I am now without a job because that man happens to be my father?”

“Jillian. Calm down. What happened?”

“I don’t want to calm down.” The very request offended her. “And I just told you what happened. If it weren’t for William, there wouldn’t have been reporters all over the school or a paparazzo lying in wait in the girls’ restroom. I don’t know if the creep was just hiding in there or planning to get a picture of me when I walked in, but teachers don’t even use the students’ restrooms. We have our own in the teachers’ lounge!”

She couldn’t believe she’d just explained that. But then, she couldn’t believe she didn’t have her job anymore, either.

She knew she sounded every bit as upset as she felt. She didn’t care. She grasped hard at her anger. She wanted to hold on to it, embrace it, as Stacy would say, because being angry felt infinitely safer than the awful, directionless sensation clawing inside her chest.

“Jillian.” Once more, Ben spoke her name with infuriating calm. “I’ll meet you at your place. Schroeder said Jackson should have you there in a couple of minutes.”