“I cannot let that happen,” I added, looking her straight in the eyes.

Dean Vance looked at the signature page again, her lips pressed into a thin line.

She took a deep breath and reached for her desk phone.

“I am going to call the university legal counsel,” she said.

Before she could dial, the phone on her desk rang with a sharp, piercing sound.

The red line flashed repeatedly in the dim light of the office.

She frowned, pausing, and picked up the receiver.

“Dean Vance speaking,” she said.

She listened for a moment, her expression hardening with every second that passed.

Her eyes locked onto mine, widening slightly.

“Yes, he is standing right outside?” she asked the caller.

My heart hammered against my ribs like a trapped bird.

She lowered the receiver slightly, keeping her gaze fixed on my face.

“Your father is downstairs,” she whispered.

“Tell the desk to keep him in the lobby,” Dean Vance said into the receiver.

Her voice was calm, but her knuckles were white where she gripped the plastic handset.