Foreigner

Chapter 29

The hallway breathes slow and hollow past curfew. I slip down the dark corridor like smoke, unseen, unheard. Third time breaking into Dr. Matthews's office. I don't even hesitate now.

The door creaks open like it knows I'm not supposed to be here. Inside, it smells like plastic folders and the kind of candles meant to fake calm. I shut the door behind me, click on my phone flashlight, and kneel in front of the filing cabinet.

M.
That's where I start. Marshall, Theo.

But there's nothing. I scan the whole M drawer three times just to be sure. My chest tightens, frustration rising. He has to be in here. Everyone has a file. Everyone.

I drop onto the floor, cross-legged, jaw tight.

Fine. If he's hiding, I'll find him.

I start with A.
Abbott. Acevedo. Adler.

One by one, I flip through them. Quiet and mechanical. My fingers numb from cold metal tabs. The office is so still I can hear the soft crinkle of each folder as I open and close it.

B.
C.
D.

Fifty folders in and still nothing.

My back starts to ache. My knees pop every time I shift positions. I keep going.

E.
F.
G.

Time drags. My phone battery dips to 39%.

H.
My pulse picks up.

Hall. Halberd. Hale.

When I open the Hale file, I freeze.

Hale, Elliot.

Preferred Name: Theo Marshall.

Identity change authorized due to prior incident. Confidential.

There's a clipped article attached to the file:

"Elite School Expels Teen for Cyberbullying Incident: Tech Tycoon Hale Family Silent Amid Leaked Video Controversy."
"Elliot Hale, 14, was expelled from Lakeside Academy after classmates' private videos were traced back to his cloud storage account. No charges were filed. Father and tech tycoon, Alexander Hale, refuses to comment."

With a gleeful grin, I keep reading the psychologist's notes.

Student exhibits excessive surveillance behavior—possibly a trauma response. Shows preference for control, order, and anonymity. Avoids eye contact when confronted. Identity change deemed therapeutic.

Warning: Do not refer to student by birth name. May trigger dissociative or hostile reaction.

I let the folder sit open in my lap. My throat feels dry. My fingers curl tighter around the pages.

It took me two hours to find the name he buried, but it was so worth it.

Theo Marshall. That smug, silent bastard who watches everyone from the shadows. Who calls me unstable. Dangerous.

But I don't pretend I'm someone else.

He does.

I snap pictures of all the pages, stand up, and slide the file back into its designated spot.

When I leave the office, a plan is already forming in my head.

¤ ¤ ¤

Christian's still up when I get back. He sits on his bed, sketchbook balanced on one knee, pencil tapping an impatient rhythm against the page. There's only one lamp on in the room, its yellow glow catching the edge of his jaw, making him look carved out of shadow and bone.