Zoe's POV
The principal's office smelled faintly of polished wood and old paper—the kind of scent that clung to schools no matter how modern they tried to look. It reminded me of quiet libraries, of secrets folded into files that never left their cabinets. My shoes squeaked softly against the polished floor as I stepped in.
I'd never been called into the principal's office before—never even brushed close to trouble. This was my first time.
And I had no idea why.
My stomach twisted into knots, every muscle in my body bracing as if stepping into an ambush. But I straightened my shoulders anyway and stepped inside.
That's when I noticed she had a guest.
A man sat across from the principal's desk, legs crossed neatly, posture exuding control. The light struck his hair—sleek black strands that dangled just enough to frame his face. His leather jacket gleamed faintly under the fluorescent bulbs, his silver watch glinting when he shifted.
