Passion's Crossfire

Chapter 94

Mallory

The university's secretary offers me a cold stare as she utters those devastating words, "I'm sorry, Ms. Hartley, there is nothing we can do."

My frustration boils to the surface, demanding answers. "I don't understand. I haven't failed in any classes; I have a perfect GPA. I just need to know what went wrong!"

The secretary's face remains impassive, an unyielding fortress refusing to disclose the information I seek. It's becoming increasingly obvious that Adam's mother, with her insidious influence, has orchestrated this situation. If it weren't for her meddling, they would surely provide a legitimate reason for my abrupt termination, right?

"Ms. Hartley, I can't assist you further. Unfortunately, the reasons behind your termination are classified," she informs me. Classified? What a load of bullshit. Frustration transforms into a searing anger as I shake my head in disbelief. I storm out of the secretary's office, determined to get some answers from the dean himself.

As I make my way to the dean's office, my phone vibrates in my pocket—an unknown number flashing on the screen. Hesitant, I answer, only to be greeted by the chilling voice of Adam's mother. "If you want your life to be back to normal, leave Adam. Now."

Her threat echoes in my ears, but I refuse to be intimidated. "Mrs. Christensen, I have no intention of leaving your son. You can't hurt me; I will figure this out," I assert, my voice steady.

"Well, I doubt your parents will agree with you. You have until Sunday to leave Adam, Mallory," she declares before abruptly ending the call. My parents? Why would my parents...

Oh shit.

I clutch the phone, my hands trembling as I call my father. "Mallory?" his voice wavers.

"Dad? Did something happen? Is everything okay?" I inquire, my voice laced with concern.

"How did you..." he stammers, his hesitation sending a chill down my spine.

"Dad? What's going on?" I press for answers, my anxiety escalating.

He sighs deeply, and I can sense the weight in his voice. "That's what I'm trying to figure out, sweetie. Suddenly, all our big clients are dropping their contracts. We are experiencing huge losses, and somehow all this got to the bank; they think we won't be able to pay anymore. They sent a notice to evacuate the house," he reveals.

My head spins, the room blurring around me. The thud of my heart reverberates in my ears, drowning out all other sounds. The stability of my family, our home, everything I've known, is crumbling. The impact of this revelation strikes me with a force that leaves me breathless.

"I don't know what happened, Mallory. It's as if everything is falling apart all at once. I need to find a way to salvage what's left of our business and try to contest the eviction notice. But it's going to be tough," he says, the strain evident in his voice.

My mind races, grappling with the simultaneous crises that have befallen us. The malicious orchestration behind these calamities becomes painfully clear – Adam's mother, a puppet master pulling the strings to dismantle our lives.

"Dad, I think I know who's behind all of this. It's Adam's mother. She's been threatening me, trying to force me to leave him. I need to stop her before things get even worse," I reveal, a mix of anger and determination fueling my words.

There's a brief silence on the other end of the line before my father speaks, "Mallory, we'll get through this together. Focus on resolving your issues with Adam's mother, and I'll do everything in my power to salvage our business. We can't let her win." His words provide a semblance of comfort, a lifeline in the storm that has engulfed us. I hang up, my mind a whirlwind of emotions.

Fuck. I need a minute to steady myself. I find a bench in the corridor and sit, my back pressed against the wall. This wasn't just about me anymore; my parents shouldn't suffer for my choices. Panic threatens to engulf me, the weight of guilt pressing down. My parents are facing financial ruin because of me.

The walls close in, and I feel a panic attack looming. I can't afford that now. I take deep breaths, fighting against the rising tide of panic. Inhale through the nose, exhale from the mouth. Focus on the breath. After a few agonizing minutes, the panic subsides, leaving me with a lingering sense of dread.

I can't let this happen. I have to talk to Adam, but first, I need answers from the dean. I'm already here, and it has to be done. I steel myself, pushing away the fear that threatens to consume me, and head towards the dean's office. It has to be done.

I knock on the dean's door, the urgency of my situation propelling me forward. Without waiting for a response, I enter. "Ms. Hartley, what brings you here?" the dean inquires, his brow furrowed.

"I need answers, Mr. Williams. I received an email yesterday, informing me that I won't be attending this semester. What's going on?" I demand, my frustration palpable.

The dean sighs, a weariness settling over him. "Mallory, I'm truly sorry for this situation. But the decision was made by higher authorities, and the reasons have been classified. There's nothing I can do," he explains, his tone sympathetic.

My frustration peaks, and I snap, "Classified? What does that even mean? This is my future we're talking about!" I can't fathom how they can withhold information crucial to my academic and professional future.

The dean leans forward, a hint of sympathy in his eyes. "I understand your frustration, Mallory. But someone influential must have intervened. I'm sorry, but my hands are tied. You are truly one of the brightest students this university has seen," he acknowledges.

"Then reinstate me! So I can attend the semester, as I was supposed to do!" I plead, desperation seeping into my voice.

"I wish there was something I could do," he admits, lowering his voice to a whisper. "Maybe you should seek legal advice."

Leaving the dean's office, a heavy weight of defeat settles over me. Everything points to Adam's mother, pulling the strings from the shadows. She really did come down on me hard. I navigate the familiar corridors of the university building, my steps heavy with the weight of disappointment and frustration. As I exit the building, I look around at the campus, the place that held the promise of my dreams. But now, my eyes well up with tears, and the surroundings blur in the haze of my shattered expectations.

I know I can face her; confront Adam's mother and the influence she wields. I am strong, resilient, but in this moment, I just need to let go. I allow myself to experience the wave of negative emotions that threaten to overwhelm me. Each step toward Adam's car is a battle against the heaviness in my chest.

I get into Adam's car and, unable to contain my emotions any longer, start crying uncontrollably. The reality of the situation hits me like a tidal wave, and I can't believe this is happening. How could she drag my parents into this?

After a while, the torrent of tears subsides, and I wipe my face with the back of my hand. I glance at myself in the rearview mirror, my eyes red and puffy, my skin flushed from the emotional upheaval. I close my eyes and lean against the headrest, taking deep breaths to steady myself.

I reach for my phone and dial Adam's number. "Hey, baby, how'd it go?" his voice comes through the phone, a mixture of concern and anticipation.

"It seems that I won't be attending, baby. And there is more," I say, my voice cracking.