Her nostrils flared. “Based on what?”

“Based on discrimination.”

Her chest jerked up and held. Her fingers wrapped tighter on the podium, and her free hand pressed into her hip. “Discrimination of what?”

“Whatever feelings you have toward Logan. I don’t want them projected to me as well, not unless I’ve earned them.”

“I think you’re earning them right now.” Her lips were pressed tightly.

I had nothing more to say. I stated my case. I’d stood up for what I felt was coming my way, and I’d made it known. If she were going to paint me with the same disdain that she had for Logan, it wouldn’t be fair treatment. I’d been treated unfairly by classmates but never teachers, so I wasn’t going to let it start in college.

“Class dismissed.” She swung her head around, giving the entire group a pointed look.

They’d all remained, waiting for the end of our exchange, and when I didn’t say anything more, they began collecting their things and leaving the room.

A couple of girls walked by me, grinning at me over their shoulders. The professor noticed but didn’t move. She didn’t say a word. She stood in silence, just like me. A couple of guys walked by as well and nodded at me before slipping from the room.

Respect.

I earned theirs, and though it hadn’t been my intention, it felt good. It felt liberating.

Once the last student was about to leave the room, she said to him, “Close the door, Frederick.”

He paused and shot me a look, but he did as she’d said.

From the other side, he mouthed the words to me, Good luck, and he gave me his own thumbs-up sign before leaving.

I held my breath. I had a feeling I would need it.

“You think I’m going to treat you unfairly?” she clipped out.

“Yes.”

“Because of one person?”

“Because of Logan, yes.”

She paused, studying me. The disappointment and derision that I’d felt earlier seemed to fade. Her eyes swept me up and down. I raised my chin higher and felt like I was a chicken offering its neck for the slaughter. I lowered my chin but steadily gazed right back.

“Has that happened before?”

“Yes, but not by a teacher.”

Her eyes narrowed. She grew thoughtful. “You’ve had other students treat you unfairly?”

“Because of Logan and because of Mason, yes.”

The tension was gone. She dropped her attitude, and her tone softened as she said, “Well, I’m sorry to hear that.”

I—

Wait…

I frowned. “What?”

“The reason I asked to speak to you in private was because I’d finally put two and two together. You’re Garrett’s daughter, aren’t you?”

My head was swimming. “What?”

A low chuckle escaped her, and she grabbed the pile of books and papers from her podium. Gesturing to the door, she said, “Walk with me. And, no, Samantha, I’m not going to treat you unjustly because of your connection to Logan Kade or his brother.”

She reached for the door and held it open for me. I went past.

She said, falling in line beside me, “I know your biological father. I went to school with him. Garrett Brickshire, right? You were raised by David Strattan. Analise is your mother? Garrett told me last year Mason Kade was dating his biological daughter.”

I winced. I hadn’t talked about my mother in so long, but she’d been mentioned twice in the last three days. “Yeah. You know my dad?”

“I do.” She pointed down a hallway, and we turned.

Logan was waiting outside a room, sitting on the floor. He stood to his feet as he saw our approach. His eyes narrowed, taking in my face.

She nodded to him, pulling out her keys. “Mr. Kade.”

He ignored her and asked me, “You’re upset?”

“I…” I was, but it wasn’t warranted.

She looked between the two of us and nodded. “Ah, yes. Garrett did say the three of you, Mason included, were exceptionally close. I’ll give you a few minutes to reassure him that you’re fine, Sam, but come inside when you’re done.” With those words, she went inside.

Logan pulled the door shut. “What did she say to you?”

“Nothing.” I waved at him. “For real. I’m okay. I…jumped to conclusions. She knows my dad.”

“Garrett? Not David?”

“Yeah. She said she put two and two together when you came to class today.”

He looked inside, watching her through the small window in the door, and smirked. “I bet she banged him.”

“Logan!” I smacked his arm.

“I bet she did. She’s hot. Your dad’s hot. I bet they had a whole fling.” He jerked his head back to me. “Oh, that reminds me, too. Well, he’s not the reason, but Mama Malinda is. She called this morning. They’re coming for parents’ weekend this Friday.”

“What?”

“Malinda and your dad—your real one, David—are coming up. She wanted to surprise you.”

“Why are you telling me?”

“Because you hate surprises.”

I scowled. The fact that he knew they were coming up before I did pissed me off. No, that wasn’t right. I was jealous. They were my family, not his.

I sucked in my breath. They weren’t my family. They were his, too. I had no reason to be jealous.