THE ALPHA WHO HATED ME - Chapter 18: Chapter 18

EVANGELINE POINT OF VIEW
Principal Morrison's office smells like coffee and old leather. The walls are lined with diplomas and awards, each one a reminder of authority and order. But sitting in the hard wooden chair across from her massive desk, I feel anything but orderly.
My hair is still damp from Celeste's water. My uniform sticks to my skin in uncomfortable places. The crescent mark on my wrist throbs like a second heartbeat.
Celeste sits in the chair next to mine, her spine straight and her hands folded in her lap. She's fixed her hair. Smoothed her clothes. Even managed to cover most of the red mark my slap left on her cheek with makeup she borrowed from Madison.
She looks perfect again. Untouchable.
But I know better now. I felt her stumble. Saw the fear in her eyes.
Principal Morrison studies us both with dark eyes that miss nothing. She's older than most of the teachers, with gray hair pulled back in a tight bun and lines around her eyes that speak of years dealing with difficult students.
"Would either of you like to explain what happened in Mr. Peterson's classroom?" she asks.
Her voice is calm. Professional. But underneath, I hear steel.
Celeste straightens even more, if that's possible. "Principal Morrison, I'm so sorry you had to be bothered with this. There's really been a misunderstanding."
The words flow out smooth as honey. Practiced. Like she's done this before.
"I was trying to help Evangeline with her studies," she continues. "She seemed distressed, so I offered her some water. But I accidentally spilled it. Before I could apologize properly, she attacked me."
My mouth falls open. The lie is so complete, so perfectly delivered, that for a moment I almost believe it myself.
"That's not what happened," I manage to say.
"I know this must be difficult for you," Celeste says, turning to me with fake sympathy. "Starting at a new school, trying to fit in. The stress can make people act... unpredictably."
Principal Morrison's pen scratches across her notepad. "Miss Cross, would you like to share your version of events?"
I open my mouth to speak, but the words tangle in my throat. How do I explain that Celeste poured water on me deliberately? That she said horrible things about my dead parents? That she's been making my life miserable for days?
It sounds like excuses. Like the desperate lies of someone trying to avoid punishment.
"She poured the water on me on purpose," I say quietly. "And she said mean things about my family."
"I would never do such a thing," Celeste gasps. "Principal Morrison, you know me. You know my family. We don't behave that way."
The reminder of her family hangs in the air like a threat. Everyone knows who her father is. Everyone knows the power the Hartwell name carries in this town.
Principal Morrison's expression doesn't change, but I see her shoulders tense slightly.
Before anyone can say more, there's a knock on the door.
"Come in," Principal Morrison calls.
Mr. Peterson enters, his face grim. He closes the door behind him and approaches the desk.
"You wanted to see me about the incident in my classroom?"
"Yes. Could you tell me exactly what you observed?"
Mr. Peterson glances at both of us, then back at Principal Morrison. "Miss Hartwell entered my classroom twenty minutes late without permission. She sat near Miss Cross and engaged her in conversation."
Celeste's perfect smile falters slightly.
"I observed Miss Hartwell deliberately pour water from her bottle onto Miss Cross's head and school materials," he continues. "She then made several comments about Miss Cross's family background that I found inappropriate and deliberately hurtful."
"That's not..." Celeste starts.
"Miss Cross tolerated this behavior for several minutes before striking Miss Hartwell across the face," Mr. Peterson continues, ignoring the interruption. "A physical altercation followed, during which Miss Cross demonstrated unexpected strength and fighting ability. The altercation was broken up when I intervened."
Silence fills the office like thick smoke.
Celeste's face has gone pale beneath her makeup. Her hands clench and unclench in her lap.
"Thank you, Mr. Peterson," Principal Morrison says. "That will be all."
He nods and leaves, closing the door with a soft click.
Principal Morrison turns her attention back to us. The atmosphere in the room has shifted. Become colder.
"Miss Hartwell," she says carefully. "Would you like to revise your account of what happened?"
Celeste's jaw tightens. For a moment, her perfect mask slips, and I see the real her underneath. Angry. Cornered. Dangerous.
"Mr. Peterson is mistaken," she says finally. "He must have misunderstood what he saw."
"Are you suggesting that Mr. Peterson, a teacher with fifteen years of experience, doesn't know the difference between an accident and deliberate action?"
"I'm suggesting that sometimes things happen quickly and people see what they expect to see."
Principal Morrison sets down her pen. "Miss Hartwell, based on Mr. Peterson's account, it appears you deliberately humiliated another student and made cruel comments about her deceased parents. This is completely unacceptable behavior."
"You don't understand," Celeste says, her voice getting sharper. "She doesn't belong here. She's nobody. Her family is nobody. She's taking up space that should go to students who actually matter."
The words hang in the air like poison. Even Principal Morrison looks shocked at the naked cruelty in Celeste's voice.
"I think," Principal Morrison says slowly, "that you owe Miss Cross an apology."
"No."
The word comes out flat. Final.
"Excuse me?"
"I said no." Celeste stands up, her chair scraping against the floor. "I will not apologize to her. I will not pretend that what I said was wrong."
Principal Morrison's eyebrows rise. "Miss Hartwell, I'm giving you a direct instruction to apologize for your behavior."
"And I'm refusing."
The tension in the room ratchets up another notch. I can feel the power struggle happening right in front of me. Can see Principal Morrison trying to figure out how to handle a student who's openly defying her authority.
"Sit down," Principal Morrison says firmly.
"No." Celeste takes a step toward the desk. "I think you're forgetting who you're talking to."
"I'm talking to a student who has violated school policy and is now refusing to follow administrative instructions."
"You're talking to Celeste Hartwell." Her voice drops to a whisper that somehow carries more threat than shouting. "Daughter of Beta Thomas Hartwell. Granddaughter of Alpha Marcus Hartwell. Future mate to the next Alpha of Crescent Moon Pack."
Each title lands like a small bomb. Reminders of exactly how much power this girl's family wields.
"My father sits on the school board," she continues. "My grandfather founded this academy. My family's donations keep this place running."
Principal Morrison's face has gone carefully blank.
"One phone call from me," Celeste says softly, "and you're looking for a new job. One conversation with my father, and your career in education is over."
The silence that follows is deafening.
I watch Principal Morrison's hands shake slightly as she picks up her pen. Watch her shoulders slump in defeat.
My wolf goes completely quiet inside my mind. Not peaceful quiet. The terrible quiet of something giving up.
If this is justice, then what am I even fighting for? No matter how loud I speak, her name speaks louder.
"I see," Principal Morrison says quietly.
"I'm glad we understand each other." Celeste smooths her skirt and sits back down. "Now, I think it would be best if we all agreed that this was just a misunderstanding between students. No harm done."
"The water damage to Miss Cross's materials—"
"I'll buy her new books," Celeste says dismissively. "Problem solved."
Principal Morrison looks at me with something that might be an apology in her eyes. But she doesn't say anything. Doesn't fight back. Doesn't stand up for what's right.
She's given up.
"Miss Cross," she says finally, "Miss Hartwell has agreed to replace your damaged school supplies. I think that's a fair resolution to this incident."
"What about the things she said about my parents?" I ask.
"Emotions were running high," Principal Morrison says, not meeting my eyes. "Sometimes people say things they don't mean when they're upset."
It's not an answer. It's not justice. It's surrender.
"So that's it?" I ask. "She gets away with everything?"
"There's nothing to get away with," Celeste says with a smile that's all sharp edges. "It was just a misunderstanding."
Principal Morrison closes her notepad. "I think it's best if you both return to your classes now. Let's put this incident behind us."
Celeste's phone buzzes. She glances at it, and for just a second, her confident smile wavers. But then it's back, brighter than before.
Celeste stands immediately, smoothing her uniform. "Of course. Thank you for your time, Principal Morrison."
She heads for the door without looking at me.
But just before she reaches it, she pauses.
"Oh, Evangeline?" she says sweetly. "I almost forgot. There's a school assembly tomorrow morning. I'll be giving a speech about kindness and treating others with respect. I do hope you'll attend."
The threat is clear even though her words sound innocent.
"I wouldn't miss it," I say.
Her smile widens. "Wonderful. See you there."
She leaves, closing the door behind her with a soft click.
Principal Morrison and I sit in uncomfortable silence. The air feels heavy with things unsaid.
"I'm sorry," she says finally. "I wish things were different. You're stronger than you look, Miss Cross. Don't let them turn you into something you're not."
Her words surprise me. There's more meaning in them than a simple apology.
"But they're not different," I say.
"No. They're not." She pauses, then leans forward slightly. "Be careful. The Hartwells have eyes everywhere."
I stand up on shaking legs. "May I go back to class?"
"Of course."
I walk to the door, then pause with my hand on the handle.
"She threatened you," I say without turning around.
"Yes."
"And you're going to let her get away with it."
"Yes."
I turn to look at her. She's staring down at her desk, her face drawn with exhaustion.
"Why?"
"Because sometimes," she says quietly, "power wins. Even when it shouldn't."
I leave her office and walk slowly back through the empty hallways. My footsteps echo off the walls like gunshots.
Halfway down the corridor, heat flashes under my skin. Not fever heat. Something else. Something that makes the fluorescent lights above me flicker for just a second.
I stop walking and press my hand to my chest. The feeling fades as quickly as it came, leaving me breathless.
Celeste was right about one thing. She has power. Real power. The kind that can destroy careers and ruin lives with a single phone call.
But as I touch the crescent mark on my wrist, I wonder if power isn't the only thing that matters.
Behind me, through the office door, I hear Principal Morrison's voice, quiet but clear: "Entitlement won't protect her forever."
Tomorrow there's an assembly. Tomorrow Celeste plans to humiliate me again in front of the entire school.
But tomorrow, I might not be the same broken girl she's used to tormenting.
Tomorrow, she might discover that some kinds of power can't be bought or inherited.
Let her talk. Let her shine.
I'll be waiting in the shadows she forgot to fear.