Chapter Five: Clash at the Hostel
The rain tapped against the tinted glass of Kim Monroe's Mercedes as it pulled into the circular drive of Greenfield Elite Boarding Academy. The name alone screamed pretentious—and yet, it was the perfect partner for Monroe Foundation's quarterly PR stunt: "Better Facilities, Brighter Futures."
She stepped out of the car, heels clicking sharply against the pavement, umbrella held steady by her assistant, Jared. The school's principal met her at the entrance, gushing with gratitude.
"Ms. Monroe, thank you so much for coming. It's an honor to have you—"
"Cut the flattery," Kim interrupted, brushing a speck of lint from her tailored blazer. "I'm here for business. Let's get to it."
The principal's smile faltered as he guided her inside.
Kim entered the grand conference hall with the same energy she used to walk into boardrooms—unapologetic, focused, and fully aware that she owned the room. School board members, a few staff, and concerned parents were already seated.
A parent stood at the far end of the room, gesturing passionately. "So my daughter comes home from the hostel with bruises, and no one's giving me answers? That's what this school has come to?"
Kim didn't glance at him. Not yet. She sat at the front, crossing her legs as she pulled out a leather folder. Jared placed a tablet beside her.
"Who is that?" she asked under her breath.
"Kelly Adeniyi. Mechanic. Daughter's in Form Two. Been complaining all week about staff negligence," Jared whispered.
"Hmm," Kim said, uninterested. "Let's see how long he lasts."
Kelly, meanwhile, wasn't done. "I want names. I want to know who's responsible. If your hostel can't guarantee my daughter's safety, I'll take this to the press."
Kim raised a brow. "And you think shouting in a boardroom is going to fix that?"
The room quieted as all eyes turned to her. Kelly's gaze locked on her.
"And you are?" he asked, unimpressed.
"Someone who doesn't raise her voice to be heard."
The silence stretched for a moment.
Kim stood slowly, her voice cool and cutting. "You want justice. I want results. But here's the difference: you're ranting. I'm funding. So while I do sympathize with your daughter—if this school is in chaos, I'll simply cut the cheque and watch it collapse. Do we understand each other?"
Kelly's jaw tightened. "People like you think money solves everything."
"No," Kim replied, "I know it does."
With that, she returned to her seat, unbothered.
Kelly sat down too, fuming. Zuri deserved better, but what could he do when power looked like Kim Monroe?
The meeting dragged on. Staff promised investigations. Kim made sharp notes and offered polished but icy commentary. When it was over, she walked out first.
Kelly followed her outside, catching up as she reached her car.
"Don't you have a conscience?" he asked.
Kim didn't even turn. "Don't you have a job?"
He flinched.
She smirked. "Didn't think so."
Jared opened her door. She slid in gracefully, like a queen done addressing the peasants. The car pulled off, leaving Kelly on the curb, soaked in rain and humiliation.
Kim didn't look back.
Because the Ice Queen never melted.