Chapter 189

Almara’s Pov

It’s been a week since the vandalization. We got most of the mess cleaned up, of course not before images of the wreck made their rounds circulating on social media.

It’s incredibly hard to read the public. Some feel bad for us, others say we deserved it, and a small portion agrees if any members of the hurricane pack deserve to have their possessions wrecked it should be the billionaires: Roman and Robert. Very little does anyone think that this shouldn’t happen at all.

Still, after having to pay the city to come out and properly clean off the spray paint as to not release any toxic fumes into the air and pay to fix the chips in the building, we’re basically back to broke.

We don’t have enough to fix the stained-glass windows which is a major center of beauty attraction of the whole building, let alone pay for lawyers and amp up our security.

While sympathetic, many of the volunteer teachers quit, and the ones who stayed wanted to start being paid as they felt a lack of safety should they remain working in the building. I can’t say that I blame them. Even I find myself looking over my shoulder as I walk through the empty halls.

Arthur and I are sprawled out on a picnic blanket in a park, watching the shapeless clouds roll across the sky. I can hear Grace laughing on the swing set beside us. We each look over periodically to make sure she’s okay, but of course she is.

She already as a little pack of friends that she sees regularly on the playground who all wait for her command on what to play and how to play it. She’s a natural-born leader.

At least she’s able to still find joy and laughter in the mundane day-to-day activities of life.

The past week for Arthur and I has been quiet. I like to think we’ve been reflective, but really we’ve just been stuck.

We’ve only been focused on what has happened, mostly because maybe the more we think about what happened, something new will be revealed to us- a way out or a solution instead of the only option that seems available now.

So now, here we lay not wanting to say what we know has to be done out loud. “What do we do?” I ask, getting the conversation rolling- though maybe I should just say it and rip the band-aid off.

“It’s your dream Little Wolf. You tell me and I’ll follow.” Arthur says. I want to tell him that maybe we should accept Roman’s hand out, but that won’t pan over well so I don’t.

If I don’t come right out and say we have to shut down, I hope the words will sting a little less. “Maybe we close for a little while,” I suggest. Nope. Still painful. “Until I can sell more paintings, you can work back at the gym, and we’ll do this again,” I say not sure if I’m trying to convince myself or Arthur.

Still, there is no guarantee that whoever did this the first time won’t do it again. “If that’s what you want,” Arthur says. “I stand by it.”

What I want is to know who is responsible and to hold them accountable. I can’t believe all the work Arthur and I put into building this school we didn’t even think about security. I just assumed because it’s a beautiful, wonderful idea that everyone else would love it too.

Maybe a part of me thought if this school worked out it would be an end to all of our bad luck.

“I think that’s what we’ll have to do,” I shrug. “I’ll draft the letter tonight,” I say and I can feel Arthur nod next to me. I know this is just as hard for him as it is for me.

Back at the house, I pull out my laptop and open a blank page which seems to mock me as I stare at it hoping that at some last minute I won’t have to draft the words. Arthur is giving Grace a bath, I can hear the running water and the splashing.

If I close my eyes, I can pretend for a moment that everything is fine. Except when I open them, the blank page is still before me.

After much hemming and hawing, I finally get the damn thing typed out. Writing is one art form I never really mastered, I’m much more of a visual type of artist. Words are too direct, too vulnerable- which is exactly what this letter is.

I post it on our schools website and our social media page. Arthur also puts it on his social media since he still has millions of followers. The letter goes viral instantly.

“So, I guess that’s it.” Arthur whispers into the dark of night as we lay trying to fall asleep, hoping this is all a bad dream.

“For now,” I quickly remind him.

“For now,” He agrees and pulls me in close to him. I snuggle into his side and let a tear silently fall down my cheek.

“I’ll go back to the training place tomorrow, I’m sure they’ll happily take me back.” Arthur says. I appreciate him talking about the plan, as if we can disentangle the emotions wrapped up into our business endeavors.

“I’ll paint tomorrow, but honestly I think whatever I come up with will be pretty sad. I don’t know if people will want it,” I say, more tears falling. Arthur doesn’t say anything, but he wipes my cheeks.

“I think whatever you create it will be raw and authentic, and that’s what people are desperate for.” I nod, though I don’t agree with him but if I keep talking I’ll just cry harder.

Sleep blissfully takes over and with it a dreamless night. Perhaps my subconscious is too afraid to dream.

The sun creeks in through the shades and flickers across my eyelids. I begrudgingly wake up, feeling like I got hit by a truck.

“Almara,” Arthur says and I feel his hands lightly shaking me.

I pull the comforter over my head. “Five more minutes,” I beg. Arthur yanks the blankets back the rush of cool air pricks my body. “Arthur!” I whine.

“Trust me, you’ll want to see this,” He’s kneeling over me and puts his phone directly in my face. I squint trying to adjust my eyes to the artificial light.

“What am I looking at?” I ask through a stifled yawn.

“People want to donate to rebuild our school.” He says grinning ear to ear.

“Wait, what?” I scoot up onto my elbows and take the phone from his hand and look at the thousands of replies to the letter I sent, hundreds of DM’s of people making offers to donate money or aid in fundraisers.

“We won’t have to close,” I say mostly to myself as I process what this all means.

“No,” Arthur beams. “In fact, more people have heard about our school than ever before and want to help from all over the world. This actually could be the start of something huge.” I squeal in excitement and sit up in bed.

“Our school is reaching millions,” I gasp. Arthur nods and I let the phone fall from my hand. He wraps his arms around my waist and lifts me into the air. I feel dizzy with delight. “This is amazing!” I say. “We’ll have enough for a security system!”

Arthur pushes me back down on the bed so I’m underneath him, his arms on either side of me keeping me in place. He lowers his lips to my neck and says in a husky whisper, “We’ll have enough for so much more.”