Chapter 6
Damon’s office door was open when I arrived at Vale Athletics, but he was sitting behind his desk as if he’d been waiting for permission to speak.
The gym sounded different from that room. Through the glass wall, I could hear jump ropes striking the floor and the steady thud of medicine balls. Damon had arranged the blinds so the afternoon light cut across his desk in clean bands. His framed photographs filled the wall behind him: charity runs, ribbon cuttings, smiling donors with their hands on his shoulders.
“Close the door, Lena.”
I did, but I stayed standing.
He gestured toward the chair. “You look tired.”
“I’m fine.”
“That’s what people say when they aren’t.” He folded his hands over a thin folder. “I asked you here because I think there’s still a way back.”
The folder had no label. I knew what was inside before he opened it. My name appeared on the first page beneath a printed statement about the alley. The words described my confrontation with Mateo as a reckless misunderstanding, an argument I had escalated because I’d been under pressure.
There was no mention of the hidden camera. No mention of the loose pipe, or the way Mateo’s step toward it had pulled my attention down and then forced it back up. The statement made the whole thing look like my failure of judgment.
“You can return to coaching,” Damon said. “Not immediately in front of the youth groups. We’d call it a phased reinstatement. You sign this, acknowledge what happened, and confirm that the attendance totals were accurate to the best of your knowledge.”
My throat tightened.
He tapped the second page. My signature was already printed at the bottom.
“You want me to say the reports were accurate.”
“I want you to stop making this harder than it has to be.”
“You said the review was routine.”
“It is routine.” His expression barely shifted. “But routine reviews still ask who approved the hours. Your name is on several reports.”
There it was—not anger, not a threat. A reminder placed carefully between us.
I looked at the photographs behind him. In every one, Damon appeared relaxed, his light shirt bright beneath banners carrying the Vale Athletics logo. He believed the room itself could testify for him.
“I’m not signing this,” I said.
His eyes rested on me for a moment. “Then you understand that the foundation may have questions.”
“I understand.”
“You could explain that you were following established procedures.”
“That wouldn’t make the totals accurate.”
He leaned back. “You’re treating this like a moral trial. It’s an administrative matter. People make mistakes, Lena. The smart thing is to protect your future.”
The word smart landed harder than it should have. I thought of the copied reports folded inside the back of my apartment desk. I thought of the tablet’s notification history and June’s careful description of who had accessed the schedule. None of it was enough yet. Damon knew that.
“I’m leaving,” I said.
He didn’t stop me. That was worse than if he had.
Outside, I stood near the front desk while a group of teenagers gathered for conditioning drills. Nobody looked at me for long. Their eyes moved away quickly, trained by the same social pressure that had made me sign reports I knew were wrong.
My phone vibrated.
Mateo: I’m not asking you to explain. The original phone is secure.
I read it twice. He had sent no question, no request to meet, no argument disguised as concern. Just confirmation that the evidence still existed.
I put the phone away without answering.
For the rest of the afternoon, Damon’s offer followed me through every ordinary sound—the timer beeping, the lockers closing, the slap of shoes against the floor. Reinstatement. A clean way back. All I had to do was make the alley my fault and let the numbers stay true on paper.
At home, I opened the desk drawer and took out the copied reports. My signatures looked different now. Not forged. Not forced. Mine.
I spread the pages across the kitchen table and sat with them until the room went gray.
Then I texted Mateo.
I need distance after today. Please don’t contact me unless it’s about keeping the original phone secure.
His reply came several minutes later.
Understood. It’s secure.
Nothing else followed.
May you like
The silence hurt, but it did not take anything from me. Damon had offered a way back that required me to disappear inside his version of events. Mateo, for once, gave me room to remain responsible for my own.
I turned the reports facedown, but I didn’t put them away.
