Chapter Text
The office fell silent. A folder lay on the desk, spread open to reveal screenshots, photos, written statements, and other documents; evidence gathered over the past few weeks, exposing lies told by one faculty member over the years.
“You understand why you’ve been called in today, don’t you, Ms. Harkness?”
An older man spoke, nudging the folder closer to her.
“Apparently, you think my personal life is a sin and that it’s keeping me from teaching. That’s why you’ve brought me in,” she replied, steady in her response.
She held her ground, fully aware that in most states, this could be grounds for a lawsuit without question. But this was a religious private college, where the rules didn’t align with those of public or state-run institutions. People were fired for almost anything here—it wasn’t a secret.
“No, the reason you're here is because you’ve lied to the administration about your marital status and other personal information during your four years here.”
The anger in his voice rose as he spoke.
“I don’t care whether you’re gay or whatever label you choose to use. The issue is that we don’t take actions like this lightly. A student found your personal accounts. Ones that directly contradict the information you’ve given to us, the public, and the students.”
Agatha rolled her eyes. It was just a white lie. Her so-called “perfect” life was a carefully crafted façade. No husband. No perfect marriage. It had all been a cover, a charade with an old college friend named Ralph, whom she couldn’t stand. But the two had maintained this act to climb the career ladder and gain better opportunities. Legally, they weren’t even married; they didn’t live together. They simply showed up at events and other occasions where having a husband was necessary. Photos of her “life” were carefully selected, edited, and shown only to a select few to maintain the illusion.
She had also been on a few dating sites for women, and some students had found her profile. Using fake accounts, they’d struck up conversations with her to confirm details about her employment and other information. They’d screenshot everything. The students who’d done this had already failed her class at least once and were now trying to challenge her grading. She assured them the grades were accurate: they had failed due to missed assignments, poor attendance, and failing exams. Even when their parents had called demanding an explanation, she shut them down, explaining that they hadn’t signed the FERPA forms, which prevented her from discussing anything related to grades.
“You let professors who abandon their classes mid-semester still teach, but you want to get rid of me?” she said, not in anger, but with quiet certainty. “I’m someone who’s taken on a full teaching load and is advising several students already.”
Agatha’s voice remained steady
“The professors you’re referring to have been here much longer than you, and you’re not even a tenured professor,” he shot back. “Your contract is very clear that we can remove you at any point during the semester.”
The room went quiet again as he pulled out another sheet of paper from the folder.
“We’re offering you a way out that allows both sides to preserve their credibility,” he said, pushing the paper forward. “You’ll resign, stating that you’ve found another position, and we part on good terms. We won’t report any of this to anyone seeking references or past employment history.”
A pen was placed in front of her.
“If you fight this, we’ll take you to court for violating your contract. It’s better for you to take this deal and walk away.”
“You’re trying to bleed me dry if I don’t accept,” Agatha muttered, eyeing the paper. There was no winning here.
“No,” he replied. “We part ways amicably, and that’s that. Please, think it over carefully.”
Agatha tapped her fingers on the desk. She picked up the pen and signed her resignation.
She wanted to fight back, but the legal fees and the unbreakable contract she had signed during her first year made it clear: even if the terms had changed over the years, the first one would be used in court. It would be a long, drawn-out battle, one she could only win if she had the resources to back it up. But she didn’t. Her university job, while comfortable, didn’t pay well. She had already been teaching online classes for other universities that paid a better rate.
“Transfer the students I’ve been advising to the department head. They at least deserve some guidance,” she said as she placed the pen down and stood up, walking out of the office with everything on the desk except the signed resignation.
By the time she returned to her apartment, she couldn’t hold back anymore. She screamed into a pillow.
“Motherfuckers think my fake straight relationship is indecent? Hypocrites.”
She slammed open the laptop she’d been using and checked a few emails from one of the universities where she had been teaching online. Westview Community College had been begging her for the past year to teach in person and take on the role of Vice Chair for the Literature Department. They’d made her an offer, but she hadn’t responded until now. The pay was far better, and the class load and hours were far more manageable compared to her overloaded schedule just to make ends meet.
“In regards to your offer for full-time teaching and Vice Chair, I accept and will start in the fall. I will be on campus beginning this date, and I look forward to working with everyone and contributing to the department’s growth,” she typed and clicked send.
The next day, she received the official employment letter and a start date.
Now, the only thing standing in her way was moving out of this nightmare of an apartment and figuring out how to get to New Jersey.
–
It took less than a month to find a house to rent and move everything in. Surprisingly, it was cheaper to rent a house in this town than it had been for her crappy apartment in Salem, which couldn’t even be described as a cardboard box. The house was a simple three-bedroom, two-bath on a quiet suburban street. It was nothing spectacular, but the space was a definite upgrade. Agatha could use one room for an office and another just for her pet rabbit, Senior Scratchy, something she’d wanted for a long time. He deserved the room to roam.
A small U-Haul pulled up into the driveway, and another car was already parked in the garage. These were the last of her boxes from her old life. She directed the movers to place them in the living room, next to everything else. Her bedroom was already set up, as was the office. Nothing extravagant, just a simple desk, bookshelf, and a few framed posters to decorate. It was painfully dull, but it would work for now until she had time to paint and redecorate.
Agatha hadn’t paid much attention to her new neighbors while moving in. There was a woman down the street she had briefly met; Ms. Hart? She couldn’t quite remember the name, which was exactly what stuck in her mind. The sound of a lawnmower indicated someone was working on a lawn nearby, probably Ms. Hart's.
Once the last boxes were moved in, the movers handed Agatha a receipt and a number to call if she needed anything else. After thanking them, she took a deep breath, ready to head inside. But just as she was about to, a woman with black hair, wearing a plaid shirt tied around her waist and a t-shirt, appeared on her porch.
“If you’re with the movers, they just finished up,” Agatha said, a little confused.
“I’m not with them, but I figured I’d introduce myself,” the woman replied with a smile.
Agatha stared at her, still unsure about the random stranger on her doorstep.
“Great, a new person moves in, and now I’ve got a strange woman showing up. This is like the start of a bad horror movie,” Agatha said, half-joking, her hand instinctively sliding into her pocket, where her keys were. At least they could be a weapon if things went south.
“I swear, it’s not like that,” the woman laughed, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. “Your landlord uses my services, and I thought I’d drop off a business card.”
“Services?” Agatha couldn’t remember the list of contractors or anything else the landlord had given her. It was all part of the lease; use anyone on the list, and they’d charge the landlord's account.
“Rio Vidal,” the woman continued, “I own Green Witch Landscaping. Everyone on the street uses my company.”
She gestured to a truck parked down the street near Ms. Hart’s house, with a logo on the side.
“If you ever want to schedule lawn maintenance, just call the number on the card.”
Rio handed her a business card, adorned with a bright flower pattern. The main office number and an email address were clearly displayed.
“Agatha Harkness, though I’m sure the landlord already told you I was moving in.” Agatha took the card, eyeing the cheesy flower design. It wasn’t her style, but it was good marketing.
“Oh, he didn’t mention your name, just that someone was moving in. Since I had to mow Ms. Davis’s lawn today, and you were here already, it seemed like a good opportunity.”
Rio awkwardly tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, her nerves showing despite her good intentions.
“Thanks… I’ll keep it in mind once I’m settled in,” Agatha replied, still processing the whole interaction.
She wasn’t sure what to make of Rio, sun-kissed skin, clothes stained with grass clippings but there was a palpable sense of pride and hard work in her demeanor.
“Have a good rest of your day, Agatha. Hope to see you around,” Rio said, not pressing further. She could tell Agatha wasn’t in the mood for small talk, so she gave a friendly wave and headed back to her truck, hoping Agatha would at least flip the business card over.