CHAPTER ONE

Alex's POV

We are in the boardroom. Our head of cybersecurity is giving a presentation on how our firewall was breached on Monday. It’s Friday now, and the issue still hasn’t been solved. I think he’s completely useless for what he’s paid. His whole department can’t figure out how it happened. The issue was stopped before important files were opened, but still our whole system is shut down until it’s resolved, which isn’t good for business. We deal with sensitive government contracts and international confidential documents. This can never happen again.

“Now Austin, with all this explanation, I’m still not hearing how we’re going to fix this and make sure it never happens again,” I say sternly, the boardroom completely silent as I speak.

“Yes, sir. I assure you my team is on it, and we just want it to be completely impenetrable before we bring our system back up.”

“For four days?” I ask, unimpressed it’s taking that long.

Austin, the head of cybersecurity, starts to speak, but my partner, CFO William, cuts him off.

“I think we need an expert to check the whole system,” Will says, and I nod in agreement.

“We shouldn’t need an expert, Austin. We should already have the best working for us. I don’t understand how a company like ours doesn’t already have measures for this.”

“We do have the best,” Austin insists, his face glum.

“Then how are we in this mess?” I ask.

“Like I said we need an expert. And I know someone,” Will says again, and once more I nod.

“We should get the expert to look at the issue, then. Do we need legal to work on non-disclosure agreements because of our confidential documents?” I add.

“Yes, that won’t be an issue. She’ll sign the paperwork and help with this problem,” Will says.

“Good—” I start to say, but I’m interrupted when my secretary pokes her head into the boardroom. One look at her face and I immediately know it’s important. She’s not supposed to interrupt any meeting unless it’s related to my son.

“Okay then, I guess that’s it,” I say, getting up. “Mr. Stone will take over with the issue.” I leave the room.

“What’s going on, Racheal?” I ask as soon as we’re out of earshot.

“I got a call from Jack’s school,” she explains. “The principal wants to speak with you. She said it’s urgent.”

Panic tightens my chest. “Is he okay?”

“She didn’t say. She just insisted she speak with you immediately,” Racheal replies.

“Okay, patch her through,” I say as I walk into my office and pick up the phone.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Hawthorne,” the principal says.

“Is everything okay? Is he alright?” I ask, trying to sound calm even though I’m panicking.

The principal is an older woman in her fifties. I hear her sigh before she speaks.

“Jack is fine. I have him right here in my office. But you’re going to have to come down to the school now,” she says.

Unease washes over me. He has never been sent home from school. In fact, he never got in any trouble before he moved in with me completely about six months ago when his mother moved to New Jersey. I’ve been called by the principal about three times now. Last month he organized a riot in class because they wanted a longer swimming period with him being the ringleader. Then last week it was a prank gluing the teacher’s mouse to the desk. Now I don’t know what he’s done, but I’m worried. He used to be a normal kid without all this trouble. I don’t know how we got here.

“Okay, I’ll be right there,” I say, standing up.

I tell my secretary to push my meetings back an hour and head to his school.

I enter Orchard Hill Academy and go straight to the administration office. I see my 10-year-old sitting on the couch, playing with his cellphone.

“Give me that,” I say, pointing at the phone as he rolls his eyes and hands it over.

“I thought I said no phones during school.”

“But Dad, I was bored waiting here,” he says.

“What did you do—” I start, but the principal appears and motions me into her office.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Hawthorne,” she says.

“Good afternoon. What’s going on?” I ask.

“Jack skipped class. Then he locked the teacher out of the pool so he could swim during maths because he ‘already knows maths and the class is boring anyway.’” The principal explains. I open my mouth but no words come out. “Mr. Hawthorne, that was extremely risky. Children aren’t allowed in the swimming pool without adult supervision. I know Jack is a star swimmer, but that doesn’t excuse it. And skipping class is completely unacceptable.”

“Yes, that is completely unacceptable,” I say. “I can assure you he won’t be doing that again.” I’m completely baffled by him. “I’ll have a stern talk with him and punish him appropriately.”

She gives me a warm smile and nods. “We also want Jack to have one-on-one sessions with our school psychologist at least twice a month.”

I resist the urge to groan. I can sense the judgment. I’m failing as a parent, and Jack never used to act out before he moved in with me.

“Is that really necessary?” I ask.

“Mr. Hawthorne, something is clearly going on. Jack is an exceptionally brilliant student, but lately he has been misbehaving. I understand his mother has moved. Maybe he needs someone to talk to,” she says. And deep down, I know she’s right even if I don’t want to admit it.

“I understand your concern, but Jack is just a bright, mischievous kid,” I say, and she nods.

“We just want to help, Mr. Hawthorne. What happened today was very dangerous. Also, we know we should have been monitoring him more closely, but that doesn’t change the fact he skipped class and locked the pool area.”

She softens. “You can meet with the school psychologist first before he meets with her just to assess her capability.”

I swallow the lump in my throat. Maybe he really does need someone to talk to.

“Okay,” I finally say. “After I meet with the psychologist first. Is he getting punished for his behavior today?”

“Normally he would be, but we won’t punish him as long as you agree to the psychologist and handle punishment at home.”

I nod.

My son is the spitting image of me, dark brown hair and blue eyes.

I watch as he huffs and climbs into the back seat of the car. He pulls his hood over his head and crosses his arms. I can already picture him doing the same as a surly teenager in a few years.

“Do you want to get kicked out of school? Is that what this is about? Do you hate Orchard Hill?” I ask, looking at him through the rearview mirror. He stares out the window with a bored expression.

“No.” The one-word answer grates on my nerves. Yelling hasn’t worked, so I need another approach.

“Then why do you keep acting out?” I ask. “Is this about your mom? I know you miss her. But you can’t be this disruptive in school.”

“It’s not about Mom,” he groans. “I was just bored. And I like swimming. I want to join the school team.”

“That still doesn’t mean you can be in the pool unsupervised. It’s dangerous, Jack.”

“I know, but I’m a good swimmer,” he argues.

“You’re a child, Jack.”

He sighs. “I’m sorry, okay?”

“Oh, you will be because you’re grounded. No electronics for two weeks and no swimming.”

“Dad! I said I’m sorry!”

“I don’t care. Don’t do the crime if you can’t take the punishment.”

“I’m sorry, Dad!”

“After you complete your punishment, I’ll accept the sorry.”

“I texted your Aunt Claire. She’ll be staying with you till I get back from work,” I add. “Behave. And she knows about your punishment, so don’t try anything.”

“What will I even do then?” he asks.

“Grab a book and read.”

He mumbles something as we reach our brownstone house. My sister Claire is waiting for us when we walk in. She is 3 years younger than me. She helps with Jack sometimes when I’m busy. She’s a lawyer working for one of the top firms in New York, she's also busy most days, but she still makes time.

“Hey,” she says as we enter. “Terrorizing your principal again, Jackie-Jack?” she adds, hugging him and kissing his forehead.

“I was just bored,” Jack says as I glare at him.

“And boredom has put you in big trouble. Go wash your hands and change,” I tell him. He pouts and heads upstairs.

“How was it?” my sister asks.

“It was okay. I’m just worried I’m failing as a parent.”

“Are you kidding? No, you’re not. Jack is an exceptional child, he’s just at that age where he misbehaves. And he misses his mom,” she says.

“Yeah, I know. I’m just worried.”

“Don’t worry. You’ll be fine,” she says. “What did the school say?”

I explain everything, including the psychologist.

“I actually think that’s a good idea,” she says. “He probably just needs someone to talk to.”

“Thanks for coming over. Hope I’m not hindering your work.”

“It’s fine. I brought my files. I have court next week, though I won’t be available to babysit.”

“No problem. You help a lot already. I’ll figure something out. Maybe have him stay with his best friend after school and leave work early.”

“What about getting someone to help?” Claire asks. “Like a nanny?”

“I don’t know. Will that be okay with him? I mentioned it once, and he wasn’t exactly thrilled.”

“Alex, you need help. And you’re the dad, he’ll have to listen.”

She’s right.

“I have to get back to work,” I say, seeing a message from William: the security breach issue has been solved.

“Okay, bye. I’ll be back by seven,” I tell her. “And remember, no electronics or TV.”

“Jack!” I call. He comes downstairs.

“Be an angel to your aunt,” I say.

He smirks. “Always.”

I kiss his head and head out.

---