She began writing my name in neat, block letters at the top of the page.

“This will buy you time, Ava,” she said without looking up.

“It will keep you enrolled, and it will keep your student housing secure while you sort out this legal mess.”

A tear slipped down my cheek, cold and wet, but I wiped it away quickly with the back of my hand.

“Thank you,” I breathed.

“Do not thank me yet,” she said, her pen scratching against the paper.

“This is a temporary shield, not a permanent solution.”

“You still have to prove the fraud.”

“I will,” I said. “Arthur Pendelton is already working on the paperwork.”

“He was my grandmother’s lawyer, and he knows my father lies.”

Dean Vance signed her name at the bottom of the form with a sharp flourish.

She stamped the document with a heavy brass seal that left a raised red mark on the paper.

“There,” she said, sliding it into a manila envelope. “You are officially protected for the term.”

She handed the envelope to me, her hand steady and warm against my cold fingers.