Down to Size Dinner, Chapters 17-18

Chapter 17

Ms. Fujina looked at Sabrina for a long moment after the sharp outburst. The room held its breath just long enough for a ripple of sound to break loose behind her, a soft chorus of “ohhh” passing through the class like a wave. She did not raise her voice or frown, only turned her head slightly toward the room and lifted one hand. “Alright, everyone,” Hana said evenly; the warmth was still there, but tightened now, “Please put away your reading and sit quietly.” Chairs shifted, books closed, the noise settling as attention was deliberately redirected elsewhere. Then she looked back to Sabrina. “Rina, come up to my desk, right now.”

Sabrina’s face burned as she stood and walked forward; the floor seemed too long beneath her feet, her thoughts pressing in on themselves as she stopped beside the desk. ‘This is ridiculous, this is humiliating,’ she thought, even as her shoulders sagged with the drag of fatigue she could no longer quite mask. Ms. Fujina picked up a demerit slip and began to write, her pen moving with calm certainty while she spoke in a low, measured voice. “I know new places and making new friends can be a lot to handle,” she said gently, eyes flicking up just long enough to note the slow blink, the yawn Sabrina failed to fully suppress, the way she rubbed at her eyes. “Sometimes when you get tired, you can feel cranky, and that makes it harder to remember our rules.” There was no question in her tone, only explanation, her conclusion already reached by what she observed.

Finishing writing, she slid the slip toward Sabrina, tapping it once with her finger. “Put this in your backpack, please,” the Japanese woman said, still quiet and kind, “And remember, you cannot talk back to adults, even when you are frustrated.” Her gaze softened just a touch. “A little fresh air may help you feel better.”

While Sabrina did as she was told, reluctantly shoving the paper into her bag under the teacher’s watchful eye, her jaw tight as she straightened again. Ms. Fujina turned then, raising her voice just enough to carry. “Class, line up by the door for recess.” As the chairs scraped and students stood, she leaned closer to Sabrina and added in a whisper meant only for her, “Join the line.” She motioned towards the forming line.

Sabrina stepped away from the desk, staring at the children before her eyes fell to the ground just as the last flash went off on her footwear. ‘Am I really thinking about joining a line of kids to go to recess?’ she asked herself, being drawn out of her thoughts when she saw Maya wave a hand to beckon her over.

Eyes staying low, fixed somewhere near the floor, she refused to lift her gaze toward the girl or the invitation from her hopeful motion. Standing there at the edge of the line felt unreal. The idea of stepping into it still lodged hard in her chest, pride flaring at the thought of being herded outside like this. Recess. The word echoed again, sharp and juvenile; everything about it felt wrong.

More and more of the children moved past her. The classroom hummed behind her with movement, chairs scraping, voices settling as the line finished forming. Remaining inside that room meant turning back toward the desks, toward supervision and the quiet aftermath of what had just happened. Fresh air suddenly sounded less like a suggestion and more like an escape, however thin the distinction felt. ‘Fuck it.’

With slow and deliberate steps, she angled herself to the end of the line, still avoiding Maya. Being at the back meant fewer eyes, fewer chances for conversation, fewer reminders of who everyone else thought she was supposed to be. Friendship with a child was not an option. That held up for less than a minute when the nine year old left her place in line to move to the end. She was more focused on the restless energy and murmured conversations to notice until she heard the voice behind her.

“Rina, didn’t you see me?”

Turning around, the blue eyed woman blinked at the girl a few times. She wanted to tell her to shut up, but the demeaning discipline form was still weighing on her. “Umm, what if I said no?”

The answer just made Maya laugh. “That's okay. Are you tired?” The question was asked with such a chipper voice.

“Yes, actually. I could use a coffee about now,” she said, really wanting something stronger to spike the caffeinated beverage.

“Your mom lets you drink coffee? Yuck,“ Maya said, raising an eyebrow

Odd as it was, the question brought an old memory to the surface of the disguised executive’s mind. Sitting at the dinner table, grabbing her mother’s coffee mug while she was cooking breakfast and taking a sip. A morning without coffee was a poor way to start a day, but back then she had the same opinion as this girl. ‘You will like it some day’ was what she had been told.

“Nope!” Maya declared, “It’s okay if you like it, though. Everyone can like different things, like my brother doesn’t like strawberries, but that just means I get to have more. He is in fifth grade, by the way.”

Half turning away from the girl, trying to will the brats to get a move on, Sabrina let out a short breath. “That’s nice.” She really didn’t care about the girl or her family.

“Yeah he is, at least most of the time. Like one of my friends was visiting, we were swimming in our pool, and he told her how pretty she was and that he will marry her one day. Sandy, that's my friend. She blushed so much, I think she likes him now but they had never even said more than hi to one another before. Isn’t that funny? OH. Oh! Idea! You should come over to swim sometime.”

Fully turning away now, Sabrina rolled her eyes. She took a few steps forward as the line finally started to move while the teacher sat at her desk looking at the packet of paperwork that had been the ridiculous exam she had taken. “Sounds like loads of fun,” she replied sarcastically.

“Yeah I think so, that is why I said it. Then my mom can make us snacks and we can watch TV. She melts cheese on a tortilla, the white fluffy ones. She says it’s easy, but I'm not allowed to make it myself since it has to go in the oven. What shows do you watch? My mom found an old show she used to watch about a girl band but it's different like secret identities. It's fun, it's called Jem. Have you ever heard of it before?”

The truth was Sabrina had heard of it, though it was before her time. The yammering kept going, but she was done answering the brat’s endless questions. Or at least she thought she was as they made their way through the hallway, away from the front door towards another.

“Come on, Rina! You have to answer, what shows do you like? What's your favorite?”

With Maya not letting up and Sabrina wanting a moment of peace, she gave in. “I don't watch TV.” She was too busy with her life to bother, though she had a fifty inch flat panel TV at her place. Most of the time it looked more like a large painting, but on a rare occasion that she had a man over she would put something on for background noise as they had their fun.

“You don’t watch TV, or not a lot of TV? My dad says I can watch for an hour but when he is at work and my mom wants to read I can watch more. You have to watch something, come on. What do you like? Maybe we can watch it together after swimming.”

“Fine, the news but that is garbage, sometimes Market Watch.” The insistent girl was a bigger pain then ninety percent of her employees and impossible to ignore, but Sabrina was positive the true answer wasn’t going to stop the questions. Saying she listens to murder documentary podcasts wasn’t going to fly either. She did remember the godawful podcast her assistant put on when she was a prisoner in her own car. "The show about horses and magic?”

“My Little Pony? Oh yeah, I like that too, I like Apple Bloom but she isn’t on enough episodes. Who is your favorite?!”

Slapping her own cheek, Sabrina groaned. Giving in only created more inane questions. ”Listen, kid. We are about to be outside, so let’s stop with the questions.”

Literally less than a minute later, the line of children made its way out of a side door. Right away, Sabrina laid eyes on the semi-open field with a pair of elaborate playgrounds on a rubbery surface standing there as if to block the way to a multipurpose field set up to accommodate a game of child sized baseball or soccer.

“What do you want to do? The little kids like the curling slide but I mostly like the swingset.”

‘She never shuts up!’ Sabrina took in one deep breath after another. Looking around, spotting a metal picnic table with other adults, she decided that it looked like a safe harbor in the eye of this storm. As she looked, the frustrated young woman witnessed the fourth grade science teacher she had just been admonished by go and sit down, having no idea that the now graded assessment test had been dropped off at the front office on her way out here. Sabrina barely made it a few steps in that direction before a middle aged man in a sweater vest and bowtie pointed off in the playground’s direction. “Young miss, go play with the other children.”

‘Other . . . children. Fuck, fuck, fuck.’ Her entire body shivered as she heard the nine year old still asking about what she wanted to do. “The swings sound fine, but only if you stop talking. Listen, whatever your name is. I have had a hell of a day. I just need some peace and quiet.” The irony of the nine year old recently referring to others as little kids wasn’t lost on her.

Looking at the new girl, Maya wasn’t sure how to take that until she remembered how tired the girl looked. “Oh yeah, you're tired. Okay, but we have to hurry or others will get them first.” With that, Sabrina found her hand being held. Maya pulled her along, moving at a pace Sabrina hadn’t moved in years. In the office she strode, at the gym on the treadmill she jogged, but she couldn’t remember the last time she ran.

Maya’s hand stayed clamped around hers as the pace shifted abruptly from walking to running, the sudden acceleration pulling Sabrina forward across the black rubberized surface of the playground. Her breath hitched, her stride lagged behind the child’s relentless energy, her legs struggled to keep up as laughter rang out ahead of them, high and unrestrained. “We gotta hurry,” Maya squealed, dark braids bouncing wildly as the gap-toothed smile flashed back over her shoulder, excitement spilling out unchecked, “If we don’t, all the swings will be taken.”

‘I am running to a swingset,’ came the stunned realization, irritation and disbelief tangling together as her balance wobbled with every step. Sabrina was unable to stop or slow down as she was pulled along by the child; the indignity of being dragged hand-in-hand across a playground settling in even as exhaustion stripped away the strength to protest. The direction had already been set by the smaller grip that refused to loosen. The swingset loomed closer as children converged from different angles, chains clinking and seats swaying as shoes slapped dully against the rubberized ground. The sight of two open swings still hanging free brought an unexpected wave of relief that had nothing to do with excitement and everything to do with finally being able to stop.

Sabrina’s legs got a break as her momentum came to an end. She took one of the empty seats, weight dropping heavily onto the rubber swing as her legs faltered beneath her, fingers slipping free of Maya’s grasp only to curl immediately around the chains for support. Her forehead tipped forward until it rested against the cool metal links while she closed her eyes and struggled to steady her breath. “You gotta use your legs,” Maya said brightly as she climbed onto the swing beside her, feet kicking off the ground and chains creaking as motion began, laughter bubbling up with each arc, “That’s how you go higher.”

Not wanting to actually use the swing, it barely shifting beneath her weight as her body remained heavy and unmoving, Sabrina continued pressing her forehead into the chain as if it were the only thing holding everything together. ‘I am really sitting on a swing,’ the thought repeated faintly, draining away what little energy she had. The disbelief of it faded to make room for a tired resignation, while Maya’s delighted squeals grew louder as she pumped harder, legs straightening with each pass as she called back proudly, “See, like that, you push.”

An intrusive presence edged in close, the shadow cutting across the ground near Sabrina’s feet as one of the boys from the class stepped into her space. His red hair was bright against the sun, his freckles standing out as he leaned in with impatient irritation. “Hey,” he said loudly, fingers closing around one of the chains, “Why are you just sitting there?” Sabrina internally groaned, not answering. Her forehead was still pressed into the metal, hands gripping the links tightly instead of letting go. A short laugh followed, sharp and pleased with itself. “Didn’t you say you had a college degree?” he went on, voice rising to draw a few eyes, “What kind of college girl can’t even use a swing?”

Opening her eyes, Sabrina stared directly into the boy’s pale green eyes, the chain lifting from her forehead as her head snapped up. The shouted insult hit her in a way she knew shouldn’t matter to her. He was just a kid, but after the classroom and dealing with the girl trying to be her friend, Sabrina had enough. “Fuck off!” The words rang out across the playground, loud and raw, enough to turn even more heads.

The smirk on the boy's face vanished immediately, freckles practically darkening as his face flushed red with anger. “What’s your problem?” he snapped. Before she had time to react, he shoved both of his hands hard against her shoulder.

Not being the most alert at the moment, Sabrina found her balance disappearing in an instant as the swing lurched sideways. The fall came quickly, air driven from her lungs as her back struck the black rubberized surface with a dull smack that stung but did not truly injure. The ground gave just enough to contain the impact, but her uniform shifted with the motion, the pinafore skirt riding up. The white fabric of the pull-up stood out starkly against the dark ground. The boy laughed immediately, pointing at what he saw. “Oh, God,” he crowed, delight spilling out unchecked, “You’re wearing a diaper.” His voice climbed higher, “You’re a baby!”

‘No! No, no, no!’ Sabrina's mind went to red alert as her hands scrambled to pull down the skirt of the pinafore to hide her shame. The sound of children giggling hit her first, emboldening the red headed boy. He leaned closer. “College degree,” he repeated mockingly, stretching the words into something ugly, “Babies don’t have college degrees”

The world blurred around the distraught blonde as she lay there, the soft black surface pressing against her back while the word baby echoed louder than the fall, louder than the laughter, louder than anything she could say to reclaim control of the moment. ‘I’m an adult, not a baby!’ An insult from a 4th grader normally wouldn’t even register, other than Sabrina thinking they were a brat. After what happened in the classroom, and what transpired in the school’s doctor's office and now being seen wearing the diaper, things felt like they were coming crashing down. The medication to repress her anxiety was not nearly enough to calm the powerful storm of emotions. There was no explosion of vitriol to use to cow the boy; instead, Sabrina found tears filling her eyes. She ended up fully bawling her eyes out, a wail of sorrow flowing free from her mouth.

“Look! The baby is crying!” The entire event was beyond Sabrina to take in as she drowned in that internal storm. She knew she was an adult. She was a powerful woman that was self made, yet dark thoughts crept in her mind as the freckled boy kept chanting the word baby. ‘I’m at recess, I attended a 4th grade class . . . I’m wearing a diaper.’ The tears still flowing, Sabrina continued to howl in sorrow. She got to her feet, glaring at the boy through blurry vision. She could see just well enough to witness Maya literally trying to pull the boy away before he shoved the Asian girl to the ground. She landed hard enough that her braid started to come undone.

‘FUCK this bully!’ She was still unable to stop the water works. She had dealt with so many types of bullies in her life and how she learned to deal with them was to be bigger than them, not in size but in scale. Fists clenched at her side, the petite young woman stalked forward. Clenching her jaw, not thinking at all about conscience or consequences, she found herself physically lashing out. Her foot swiftly connected with the child’s groin.

“Oof!” The boy exclaimed. Just like that, he was hunched over, his hands cupping the sensitive area where he had been attacked. The damage was done. His taunts ended as tears came to his own eyes.

It was about then that Maya not only stood, but shoved the boy, causing him to topple over. “Look who is the big baby now!”

What none of the students or Sabrina were aware of was that back at the picnic table, Ms. Hana was watching everything unfold. First she had been happy to see the guest in her classroom, Sabrina Thorne, Rina, holding hands with one of her more outgoing students, Maya Kanna, as the two ran toward one of the swing sets. While her friendly student seemed to be trying to swing as high as she could, Rina on the other hand sat there leaning on the swings chain. She then witnessed Kyle, the freckled red headed boy, approach. She couldn’t hear what was being said, but a moment or two later Kyle shoved the blonde girl to the ground before pointing at her as she broke out in tears. Maya tried to pull him away before Rina kicked him in the balls. While concern had her rushing to the children, her mind was also counting infractions for demerits.

Barely registering the moment, the Asian woman came upon them. Sabrina’s awareness had long since collapsed inward from the taunting and physical assault from those on the playground. It was all blurring together with Kyle’s crying, the echo of that word he used still ringing in her head. Her body was buzzing with adrenaline and shame as tears continued to spill no matter how hard she tried to clamp down on them. Everything felt unreal, like she was watching herself from somewhere too far away, standing there shaking while her chest heaved and her hands curled into fists she could not unclench.

“How dare you touch me?” she shouted again, the words tearing out of her throat, hardly controlled as she stared at the boy hunched over in front of her. Fury surged up through the humiliation and demanded somewhere to go. “I don’t care if you’re a child; you don’t get to put your hands on me,” Her voice wavered but did not soften, anger pushing her forward even as her vision swam, “You can’t go around shoving others. You little shit! You need to learn a lesson.”

Ms. Fujina’s hand closed around the yelling girl’s arm without warning and yanked her backwards before she could take another step. She gripped Sabrina’s sleeve with a firmness, holding her in place as her feet stumbled and then stopped.

The sudden contact hit far too close to everything else that had already happened. Panic and rage flared together as her shoulder tensed instinctively and she tried to pull away, “Don’t you fucking touch me!” she screamed, even as the calm authority in the teacher’s body language undercut her actions as the immature one,

Kyle, the young bully, was still sobbing. The sound filled the space Sabrina had been pulled away from, loud and broken, while Maya’s voice cut in nearby, high and frantic as she shouted that he had shoved them, that he had started it. Her words tumbled out over each other as she pointed back toward him. Standing there just out of reach, Sabrina felt the moment slipping away from her even as her heart hammered, the sense of control she had seized shattering in her hands.

Ms. Hana stepped fully into Sabrina’s line of sight, body angling just enough to block Kyle from view while the grip on her arm stayed firm and unyielding, her voice calm as it carried over Sabrina’s head toward the crying boy. “Kyle, I saw you push the girls,” she said clearly, leaving no room for denial, “That behavior is not acceptable, that is four demerits, two per unwanted touch.”

Her attention shifted then, the calm voice lowering just enough to land squarely on her. “Rina, look at me,” Ms. Fujina said, waiting until her eyes lifted despite the resistance burning behind them. “I understand that you were upset, and I understand why.” A pause followed, deliberate and heavy. “But you are not allowed to respond with violence.” The grip tightened slightly, not to hurt, just enough to make the boundary clear. “You cannot strike another student. Ever. That will be two demerits for you and for your new friend Maya. We have a zero tolerance policy.”

“I didn’t do anything wrong. That little shit attacked me!” Sabrina exclaimed.

Still holding the girl, the teacher sighed. ”Rina, I understand you are angry, but two wrongs do not make a right. You cannot strike others. Please don’t argue; I would hate for you to gain another demerit.” Ms Hana knew the girl’s language alone should be enough for another form to be filled out.

‘What the fuck!? I didn’t start this!’ The words echoed uselessly inside her head as her mouth opened and closed without forming the protest she wanted, anger still burning but now tangled with something colder and heavier. The sick realization settled in that the moment she lost control had become the moment that mattered most. ‘Two more demerits, four stupid pointless documents that say I’m not acting like a good student when I’m not a kid or a FUCKING STUDENT!’

Chapter Eighteen

While Sabrina Halloway sat beneath fluorescent lights in a classroom and later beneath open sky, moving from desk to playground under the supervision of a teacher a few years younger than herself, all while being seen as the child, Elena Thorne stood on the other side of the building before a heavier door marked with the name Edgar Sterling. The outer conference room had been left ready for use, the polished table left undisturbed, leather chairs aligned with near-military precision. The low murmur of male voices carried clearly from beyond the partially closed inner door that led into the school owner’s private office.

Elena crossed the room, her heels clacking against the hardwood floor with each step, until she stopped just short of the inner threshold. Lifting her hand, she gave a light, deliberate knock against the solid wood, the sound announcing her presence. Unlike her boss, she had no impulse to simply enter and claim the space, no assumption that proximity equaled invitation. Instead, she waited until a calm voice from within granted permission for her to come in.

Opening the office door just enough to slip in, Elena could hear the two men inside were already mid conversation. Trying to disrupt things as little as she could, she closed the door quietly behind her. Julian’s smooth tenor tone sounded at ease, like he was talking to an old friend. “At fourteen, I thought I was being sent away,” he was saying, tone measured rather than nostalgic, the kind of reflection offered without indulgence. “It felt punitive for some of my younger wild ways; I was so angry to be sent away to boarding school. The thing was, it took years and the growth of maturity . . . Not the fastest thing to gain, but eventually I realized it wasn’t any such thing. Living away from home taught me more about independence, the school allowed me to learn what proper calibration was really about. Structure . . . It was what I needed. It forces a young person to decide very quickly whether they will rise or be left behind.”

Seated behind his desk, Edgar Sterling had his hands folded with deliberate symmetry, his posture straight, expression unreadable but attentive. The office itself was orderly with mementos spread out seemingly randomly in the room, shelves arranged with academic awards for his institution, framed credentials aligned evenly along two of the walls.

Shifting slightly, head turning, Julian’s attention moved to Elena as she entered. His gaze traveled from her heeled feet upward along the clean lines of her off-the-rack store bought clothing before meeting her eyes. The assessing look was brief, and quietly approving. “Ms. Thorne,” he greeted, the warmth in his tone a bit more than purely professional, “We were discussing the value of formative discipline at a proper school.”

Inclining her head to both men, she tried to look composed and unhurried. In truth, she felt neither after witnessing her boss wearing a schoolgirl’s uniform and a pull-up diaper. “My apologies for the delay,” she replied evenly, “The tour required a few additional stops.”

Sterling’s eyes rested on her a moment longer before he gave a slight nod. “Quite all right, Ms. Thorne. Please,” the man said, motioning to one of the chairs on the other side of his desk.

Moving farther into the office with invitation, she took the indicated seat. Her posture was straight, one leg crossed over the other. She gave Julian a side eye glance, shifting slightly as she felt his eyes on her; she gently rested against the arm of the chair.

“We were discussing the school’s expansion, though I might have veered a little off topic,” Julian continued, knowing full well he had intended to try to create a greater connection with a personal story with his own experience with such private schools. “The acquisition of another institute like your own in Surrey.” Julian looked to the dark haired beauty to elaborate. “A great area in northeast England just outside of London. The acquisition is truly promising, but the regulatory environment is layered. Different inspection bodies, different compliance expectations. We’ll need airtight coordination between Blackwood’s operational structure and the British framework.”

Sterling inclined his head once, fingers still interlaced on the polished surface of his desk. “I am not interested in missteps,” he said evenly, “If Blackwood extends its name internationally, it does so without compromise. I will not have this institution diluted by unfamiliar bureaucracy.”

“Elena and I have already begun reviewing the statutory requirements,” Julian replied, glancing briefly toward her, an unspoken cue inviting participation, “Safeguarding protocols, staff accreditation transfers, property oversight, curriculum parity.”

Elena only paused for a moment, taking note how he didn’t bring up the architect of much of the prep work from Sabrina. “There are also visa considerations for non-UK boarders,” she added calmly, “If the school intends to preserve its international intake model, sponsorship status will need to be secured early. Often inspections operate on a different cadence than domestic accreditation here, and any lapse during the transitional period could impact enrollment confidence.”

Sterling’s attention shifted fully to her now, the weight of his gaze much heavier than anything Julian gave her even before he had begun to flirt with her. “And you believe the transition can be executed without reputational risk?”

“With proper staging,” she answered evenly, “A phased integration rather than immediate brand overlay would reduce negative press. Maintaining the existing leadership temporarily while aligning policy in the background would reassure parents and regulators alike.”

Julian’s mouth curved slightly, approval subtle but clear. “Exactly my position,” he said, “We stabilize first. Rebrand after trust is secured.”

Sterling leaned back just slightly in his chair, considering what was said. He had already read parts of it in the initial proposal. “Trust,” he repeated, the word measured, “Yes. That is precisely what determines whether an institution endures.”

Elena held his gaze a fraction longer than the politeness required before inclining her head in acknowledgment. The gesture was professional rather than submissive, though she was acutely aware that every path she had offered as resistance had been answered with calm, procedural certainty. “Of course,” she replied, “I will discuss it with her mother this evening.”

Julian shifted slightly where he stood, the faintest easing of his shoulders suggesting satisfaction rather than triumph. “Blackwood is not merely acquiring property in Surrey,” he added, tone smooth and deliberate, “We are extending a philosophy. Consistency across institutions will matter. Families invest in certainty.”

“And certainty,” Sterling said, fingers aligning once more against the polished surface of his desk, “is built upon confidence.” His eyes returned to Elena with quiet precision. “Confidence that those advising me understand what we are building.”

Elena did not look away. “I understand,” she answered, her voice steady, refusing either defensiveness or enthusiasm, “And I would not recommend an alignment I did not believe sustainable.”

The exchange lingered before Sterling gave a small nod that signaled he was ready to transition. “Very well,” he said, tone unchanged, “Have the proposal delivered to my office by the end of next week. International counsel will review the compliance language before we move to signature.”

Julian stepped slightly aside as though he was making room for his rebuttal. “We can incorporate the Surrey regulatory distinctions into the integration draft,” he said, “No reason for delay.”

Sterling’s attention remained fixed on Elena a moment longer before he concluded, “I prefer partnerships grounded in shared conviction. Ms. Thorne, you have seen part of my facility. I’m hoping you and Aegis Strategic Logistics are willing to put your trust in Blackwood Academy.”

“Blackwood’s standards are evident,” she replied, needing to make a decent impression on the man even if the school itself hadn’t been her focus at all. “The structure, the discipline, the oversight, they are consistent with the reputation you have cultivated.”

Inclining his head slightly, Edgar’s expression softened hearing what the young woman had to say about his school. “Reputation is sustained by belief,” he said, fingers pressing down on his desk sliding them forward. “Families entrust their children to this institution because they believe we will shape them properly. When partners stand beside us publicly, that belief strengthens; It becomes mutual.”

Julian nodded, understanding what he was hearing. “Alignment matters,” he added in a smooth tone. “Particularly when we are preparing to extend Blackwood’s name internationally. Optics influence confidence, and confidence influences execution.”

Elena eyes opened wide, only for a moment, dread filling her. ‘Shit!’ Things were getting way too dangerous where Sabrina was concerned. “In the case of my niece,” she began carefully, “there are considerations that may complicate her attending.”

Sterling did not interrupt. He held his hand out, rolling his wrist, wanting more information rather than vagueness.

“We would rather her not reside on campus,” Elena continued, trying to put a stop to the line of thinking, “Her mother prefers Rina home in the evenings. Rina boarding here likely won’t work, I’m afraid."

“That is not an obstacle,” Sterling replied without pause, “Only a portion of our students board. Day enrollment is common, and structure does not require dormitory residence.”

Julian gave a small nod of agreement, understanding how hard it could be for a parent to let go of their child at such an early age.

The rebuttal sank in. Elena shook her head, trying to come up with another lie to stop the insanity that was getting way out of control. “There are also no conventional academic records,” Elena went on, adjusting the angle of her crossed legs while keeping her voice even. “My sister has homeschooled her for several years. There are no transcripts to review, no standardized benchmarks to evaluate.” She didn’t actually know how home schooling worked and hoped she was transparent in that fact.

Sterling’s expression remained unchanged. “Which is precisely why we conduct independent assessments,” he said, “We measure aptitude directly. Paperwork is supplementary.”

“Elena,” Julian interjected lightly, though the lightness carried intent, “Your niece is already completing that evaluation as we speak. If she demonstrates capability, that concern resolves itself, right?

A faint tightening passed through Elena’s jaw before smoothing away. “Tuition remains a significant commitment,” she said at last, “While I recognize the value of what you offer, I am not certain my sister is positioned to sustain that level of expense.”

Julian’s gaze shifted fully to her now, less flirtatious than before, understanding not everyone was as financially stale as himself or how he grew up. “You have been instrumental in preparing this merger,” he said, “Your insight on regulatory coordination, staffing continuity, and phased integration has saved this process from unnecessary friction. I do not see why support for your family’s educational investment would be unreasonable.”

Leaning back a fraction in his chair, Edgar smiled while Julian continued, tone measured. “If cost is the primary barrier, that can be addressed. Consider it an investment in one of my most capable employees. Provided, of course, that you intend to remain with Aegis.”

The offer was framed in a way where Juian was trying to give reassurance, rather than pressure, yet it settled heavily all the same.

Sterling rapped his knuckles on his desk. “Partnerships grounded in shared conviction tend to progress more efficiently,” he said, “When trust is demonstrated personally as well as contractually, there is little reason for delay. It sounds like there is nothing stopping your bright little niece from attending.”

Elena understood what was being constructed. Each objection had been answered with a solution, each one removing another avenue of retreat, until refusal itself would appear irrational or disloyal. Outwardly she remained composed, nodding once in acknowledgment. “I will discuss the matter with her mother this evening,” she said evenly, offering the only delay still available to her without appearing oppositional.

Sterling inclined his head in what could have been agreement or quiet expectation. “Very good,” he replied, “For now, let us assume the assessment reflects what we believe it will; we can finalize her enrollment promptly.”

Smirking, Julian’s expression showed his feeling of triumph thanks to Elena finding the route to secure the prickly man’s cooperation. “Confidence rewarded by action,” he said, “That is how strong alliances are built.”

Holding her breath, Elena held their gaze without visible resistance, though internally she felt the careful architecture of her earlier deflections collapsing one by one, replaced by a dead end.