AU: I thought it was time for a bit of lighter AU to alternate with another story. In this one, there is no shared history between Klaus and Caroline. It's just a romance.
The Headmistress and the Billionaire
Part 1 The Headmistress
Caroline Forbes-Salvatore looked up proudly at the historic building that housed her greatest pride and joy. It took the better part of a half decade to build the school from the ground up—figuratively, of course. It was an unexpected blessing after another that pushed her forward to achieve her dream. Thanks in no small part to her charm and tenacity, of course. Caroline clutched her folio tight to her chest.
She took a deep breath, and nodded in self satisfaction.
She was the most fortunate achiever in the world.
It was not always this way, but somehow in the last few years everything came together wonderfully.
It started on what was the happiest day of her entire life. She and Stefan ran down the aisle, giggling like the teenagers they were, hands clasped together and so excited for the future. She beamed at the guests, friends who were there from the beginning and watched their friendship turned to romance. Every one of them watched the proposal when her friend uploaded it on Youtube. And Caroline did her organizational best to ensure that the wedding weekend was going to have every last one of them in attendance.
"We're hitched!" Caroline squealed.
And Stefan, lovely Stefan, met her excitement with a grin and exclaimed back, "Yes, we are!"
Right at the top of the church steps, Caroline twirled and threw her arms around his neck. Their friends and family hooted and hollered when Stefan learned forward—although if she cared to admit it she really just pulled him to her—and kissed his bride.
When they parted, Caroline laughed, "Oh my God, I'm a wife."
"You're a wife, Mrs Salvatore."
She celebrated with openmouthed glee and pulled him with her, climbing into the back of the limousine. The stretch limo was white—the whitest they had. She insisted on that too. The flowers decorating it had a tasteful arrangement, and the bells were obnoxious. She wanted the world to know.
Fresh out of school, married to her college sweetheart. Caroline made it look so easy.
By the end of that day, she opened her eyes to the blinding light of the hospital, screaming in pain and fear. Strange hands, all over her, started ripping her beautiful Vera Wang while her skin was burning and her muscles strained. Caroline turned her head to the side and saw her bloody wedding veil, all twelve feet of it, haphazardly laying on the floor. White, unfashionable shoes stepping all over the lace with its beautiful embroidery.
Stefan.
Nowhere to be seen after just having promised her in his vows that he was not ever going anywhere after he says I do.
Her best friend who held her hair back after one night of binging in high school. Her boyfriend who took her out dancing and barhopping when she insisted she couldn't face the devastating diagnosis of her mother's terminal illness. Her fiancé who held her and never let her go when her mom passed.
Her husband nowhere to be seen on the most devastating night of her life.
She called for him, over and over and over and she never even realized when she stopped, when she drifted off and lost consciousness. When she woke up that night, Caroline groaned in pain, unable to move. She cracked her eyes open. They were dry, and she could barely see. She squinted to almost make up the slumped, tuxedoed figure in the chair.
"Stefan," she whispered, her voice raspy in her dry throat.
Her heart sank a moment when she figure stirred and light him his hair. "Hey blondie," came the gentle greeting. He called her that, and never changed. It made her feel small a long time ago, when he used it to put her down, diminishing her to the color of her hair. She knew why he used it, and that when he was beginning to hit on her in high school she was blondie because she was just one of the many possibilities to him in their new school. Now it sounded affectionate, even fond. Stefan rubbed off so positively on him. "How are you feeling?"
"Where is your brother?" She tried to raise herself on her elbows, but fell on her back in despair. It was no use. She felt like a truck rammed into her. And then, "Oh God, did a truck ram into me?"
And then Damon was at his feet, right beside the bed. "Elena just stepped out to get us coffee. She'll be right here."
She searched his face. He averted his eyes.
The limo was on the way to the reception. They were fooling around at the back. The space was wide and fancy. And they just got hitched. She was lying down, enjoying all the room. Stefan mocked being a werewolf, crawling towards her on all fours. And she was laughing, and he was laughing.
Caroline held her breath. "Where is Stefan, Damon?"
She was laughing until she wasn't. She was laughing, until she was screaming. The world flipped upside down, over and over, violently. Caroline had felt his arms wrap around her and she buried her face in his chest as deeply as she could, as if hiding from it was going to keep it from happening.
Elena returned to the room with coffee. Damon shook his head. "I'll give you some privacy," he muttered. Coward. He rushed to the door and pulled it open. When he glanced back at her, Caroline knew it was going to be one of the last times she would ever see him. Damon, who was going to be her brother-in-law. He and Stefan had discussed monthly barbecues, splitting holidays in respective houses, raising children side by side and betting on which kid would be taller, smarter, better at sports. And then, he quickly strode towards her and took a crumpled envelope from inside his jacket. "For what it's worth, I was looking to all of it, blondie."
Little golden haired children wiping the floor with tiny brunettes' asses at every kiddie game.
It was Elena that said it, even if Caroline had gathered her wits enough by now to have concluded it.
Good old Stefan, she thought blearily. At least she could say she was elated every second she was married and not be lying. That would be the world's most agonizing record.
"We never fought," she whispered.
"Care—"
Caroline raised her tearful eyes to Elena. "We never fought. We were laughing through the entire marriage, kissing, flirting." Her shoulders shook with the sobbing giggles that only hysteria could yield. "Best marriage on record. Bar none. All happiness and celebration. All the half hour of it."
Caroline looked down at the envelope that Damon dropped in front of her. She lifted it with her warm, throbbing, bloated hand with the dextrose sticking from it. Caroline struggled to open them. Finally, she managed to unfurl the papers.
It was a crisp, terse letter of dedication.
"For the first Mrs Salvatore.
Raise the next generation strong."
She turned the page as saw the notarized and filed transfer of the deed to the boarding house. Caroline looked up at Elena askance.
"Some families pass on rings," Elena told her. "This family passes the house. It's been in the family for generations, Caroline. Stefan and Damon agreed."
Caroline hastily folded the deed back up and pushed it towards Elena. She shook her head. "I won't. I don't. There won't be Salvatore children here."
The other half of the recipe was gone. That house was beautiful, and old, and overflowing with memories. "I can't live there, Elena. Everywhere I look I am going to see him. You and Damon—"
Elena placed the deed on the bedside table next to her friend. And then she put her hand over Caroline's. "Stefan wanted you to have this, Caroline. You can make that place better. You can find a way to bring life to it." Elena smiled sadly. "If that place is too full of memories for you, imagine how Damon looks at it. It's going to send him crashing. We are never going to live there or raise a family there, Caroline. Believe me, you'll be doing us a favor."
"The Salvatore School for the Gifted," she read proudly.
Beside her, Alaric Saltzman stopped to admire the view. "You should be proud."
Caroline smiled. "Believe me, I am."
They had almost lost the school on its first year. Being a young businesswoman driven by the mad pursuit for purpose, she had admittedly not been so cautious about how she ran the school. Being partnered with a historian and professor did not help. All Ric could contribute was a review of the curriculum, his ability to rub elbows with the school board, and a strong network of educators that they could pirate. Ric helped make Caroline's vision real.
But Caroline's dream of a gifted school plus Ric's taste in curriculum and teachers summed up to ridiculously expensive. Really, they could have cut back and slowed down. It was the first year of operations anyway. But seeing the children thrive and grow, Caroline knew she could not cut down anything. All year she wrote about the school, blogging about it, coordinating with associations trying to look for funding, holding speaking engagements in almost every city that she could think of. In between engagements, Caroline went to various clubs and communities to talk about the results that they had seen in the first months of operations, eager to recruit even more students.
The three million dollar donation was the biggest salvation.
She and Alaric had racked their heads trying to match the donation to any initiative they conducted to save the school, but could not figure out where it came from. Caroline certainly did not have any communication with Mikaelson Enterprises. When she looked up the firm, she found out it was a several billion dollar infrastructure and construction company, with government contracts around the world.
Caroline had definitely not been reaching out to that industry.
But she would not be one to question where philanthropic hearts poured their wealth, especially when her dream school was strapped for cash, and especially because Caroline suspected that Mikaelson's accountants can use the donation for tax writeoff.
Caroline tried to contact the firm to personally thank them for the donation. Once the check cleared, of course. All her requests to meet about the fund were politely declined. Caroline checked the company profile to see if she could just visit. If were any closer than New Orleans, she would have gone in person too. Apparently, the company first made its fortune on a government contract building levees in Louisiana during the 1700s.
Now that was money.
And now a small part of it was the school's.
She chalked it up to one of the lucky breaks the universe had given her since her nightmare wedding day.
"Well done," Alaric told her.
Ric stumbled for a moment when a small figure bumped onto his legs. He looked down and cracked a smile. "Josie, what are you doing here?"
A few feet away, Alaric's other twin girl stood tapping her foot. "It's time for class."
Caroline watched as Alaric escorted his daughters towards the school as the bell rang. She made her way in when she noticed a student rushing from the dorms. The auburn-haired girl stopped still, as if doing so meant she turned invisible and the headmistress would not notice her.
"Miss Marshall," Caroline greeted.
Like the teenager she was, Hope squeezed her eyes shut in despair. Caroline shook her head. At that age, she was pretty sure she had snuck in late more times than Hope did. She remembered the bits of information she had scanned through in Hope's documents during the times when she was called to speak with her. This was definitely a headstrong girl, approaching headlong into sixteen.
That was the most rebellious age. Oh, the headache she had given her mom at that age.
In the first year of school, Caroline had to have conferences with the girl's mother at least six times. In the first semester, she tried as much as possible to inform Hayley Marshall about her daughter's progress over the phone and through email. As the months wore on, and concerns escalated, Caroline found herself several times sitting across from the single mother, looking svelte and surprisingly too young to have a teenager already.
The woman was firm, strong, and while apologetic for some of Hope's stunts did not seem cowed or ashamed. When Hayley Marshall looked down and massaged the bridge of her nose, Caroline wondered if the same stress level emanated from her own mother when she got into trouble in school. By all accounts, looking at Hope's documents, Ms Marshall was a single parent raising the girl.
With how frequently they met about Hope, Caroline felt some kinship with Hayley.
"First period is History, right?"
Hope opened one eye, checking to see if the headmistress was still there, as if keeping one eye closed means she was half visible only. She sighed, then nodded.
Caroline beckoned her closer. "Come along."
Hope signed, then dragged her feet towards Caroline, muttering about demerits for tardiness being a bane. They stopped in front of the classroom. Hope reached for the doorknob. Caroline stopped her, then opened the door herself. Hope eyed her suspiciously.
"Mr Saltzman, I apologize for keeping Hope from your class," Caroline said as she ushered the student in. "I had a special project assignment for her and we completely missed the time."
Alaric's eyebrow arched at her, but nodded his head, understanding that there must be a reason for the lie. "Of course, Ms Forbes."
Caroline gave Alaric an impish grin, then waved briefly to the class before closing the door.
With all the classes ongoing now, Caroline poured a cup of coffee, then sat down in her office. She returned to the business of going through school newsletters, scouting virtually for interesting students that could help with the academic diversity of the school. Their sports programs were top notch, and their math league would lose to no one. And everyone remembers the sheer magic of the science fair. Her students went national there. Performing arts, visual arts, music—those could do with some help.
She will need to bring that up to Ric on their next meeting, so he could start scouting for teachers and programs that she could use to entice some gifted students into the fold.
Caroline heard the loud noise and saw when stray papers on her desk began to fly. She gasped, then turned to close the window to keep the gust of wind at bay. She looked up and saw the chopper precariously hovering above the school ground and gasped. She rushed outside and waved the classes back into their rooms, motioning to the teachers to return to their days.
Standing at the top of the steps, Caroline composed herself. She straightened her hair and clothing as the helicopter landed on the lawn. She pursed her lips in disapproval. From the helicopter alighted two men, one dressed sharply in a suit and the other in slacks and a gray cashmere sweater. They strode towards her with a purpose, not missing a beat.
Well, they were in a hurry, after all. Who takes a chopper to a school on a leisure trip?
"Good morning, gentlemen," Caroline called out. "May I ask what brings you to the Salvatore School? We don't have a helipad, and this is completely unsafe."
The suited one registered the information with a nod. "We apologize for dropping by unannounced. And about your lawn. We'll fix that." Caroline frowned. "We'll get you one."
"One what?"
"A helipad."
Caroline's brows creased deeper. "We do not need a helipad. This is a school."
"Mrs Salvatore, I take it?" The man extended his hand to shake hers.
Caroline offered hers. "It's Ms Forbes." Because really, all the school papers may her name hyphenated—the building having been a wedding gift, Damon made sure all the documents reflected that—but she hadn't really had a chance to live in that skin.
"Ms Forbes," the man acknowledged, "I personally apologize for not having been available for your meetings. We'd like to meet you now please. A personal matter. Elijah Mikaelson."
Caroline gasped at the name. "Mr Mikaelson, of course." Appointment or not, ruined lawn or not, heck—safety or not! One did not refuse when your three million dollar patron dropped by.
The man in that expensive sweater stepped forward, having been quiet the whole time. He walked over until he stopped very close to her. Caroline's nostrils were assailed by his fragrance. He was heady, and this was unprofessional. She held her breath. He held out his hand, and when she took it, instead of a handshake, he brought it up to his lips.
Old fashioned, it seemed. Half a decade since Stefan, and immediately Caroline felt something deep in her belly stir. With bated breath, she waited for the name. "Niklaus Mikaelson," he said, and she swore it sounded like a purr. "I'm the younger one." She swore there was warmth between her legs, and she moved to pull her hand back. He held fast. This—this reaction—was the opposite of old fashioned.
Old fashioned did not mean conservative, and you know that.
Caroline pushed the voice back down.
They made their way to her office, with the two men following her not far behind. Since beginning to put up her school and touring the world to make it successful, Caroline had gained a lot of confidence, secure in herself and her abilities. When she saw the achievements of her students, her own self confidence skyrocketed. It was only now, walking in front of these gentlemen, most especially after that brief encounter with Niklaus Mikaelson, that she felt a little unsteady on her feet.
She opened the door to reveal the mess of papers on the floor.
"Well, it looks like there's been a hurricane in here," Niklaus Mikaelson commented.
"Don't be an ass, Niklaus, and help pick them up. It was obviously the chopper you insisted on using."
Caroline was going to like Elijah Mikaelson.
"You really don't have to. I will take care of it later," Caroline protested.
"Nonsense. Mikaelsons always clean up their own messes," Niklaus drawled. While Elijah knelt to pick up the papers at the doorway, creasing his immaculate suit, Klaus moved more deeply into the room, then turned his back on her before bending to gather the documents from the floor. His trousers tightened at his backside.
She was going to like Elijah, but goodness she was going to enjoy Niklaus Mikaelson.
Caroline cleared her throat, then made her way to her chair. Waiting for them to take their seats, she could not help her eyes from wandering back to where Niklaus was bent. She exhaled slowly—long bated breaths were not professional.
When the brother sank into the chairs in front of her, she could feel his gaze burning into her skin. "I can't say I'm prepared," Caroline admitted, "but you said you need to discuss a personal matter."
"Ms Forbes, we are here for Hope."
"Hope?"
Elijah nodded somberly. "Hope Marshall, Niklaus' daughter."
Caroline looked at Niklaus in surprise. She flushed. Having those thoughts about a billionaire that just landed on your lawn was one thing, but on the parent of one of her own students! It was mortifying. The way that Niklaus Mikaelson seemed to so intently watch her reaction was unsettling.
"We have a family situation. Hope's mother is not well," Niklaus stated softly. "We need to take Hope."
It was like cold water poured over her. Caroline picked up the intercom with trembling hands and pushed to get a private line with Alaric.
"Hope will be here in a few minutes." She looked back at Niklaus. "I am so sorry."
He shook his head, then nodded pointedly at Elijah. "Hayley is Elijah's fiancé. But it's a long story that Elijah won't be able to tell now. My brother is positively flustered and in a complete mess." Caroline observed the positive mess of the older Mikaelson brother, only to see the immaculate attire, perfectly coiffed hair, and straight back. In comparison, Niklaus Mikaelson in his sweater and rumpled hair that almost seemed tousled, and a stubble that seemed a day too late for a shave, was closer to a starving artist than a construction heir. He continued, "Perhaps over dinner. I know a place."
A sigh. Exasperated and long suffering. "Niklaus, are you really picking up the headmistress of my daughter's school?"
"You mean to say, my daughter?" The younger brother broke into a giant smile. He shrugged, then glanced at Caroline. "Inappropriate?"
"Very."
In all her interactions with Hayley Marshall, and the underlying pain that she had seen flicker behind Hope's eyes in those moments when the girl was called to her office, Caroline had not suspected this type of non traditional setup. No wonder the child was straining, acting out. She watched Elijah and Klaus with hooded eyes.
The curt knock on the door was courtesy, and the door opened.
"Mrs Salvatore, Mr Saltzman asked me to see you." Hope caught her breath. "Dad."
Both men looked up. Niklaus remained seated. Meanwhile, Elijah walked over to the young woman and took her hands in his. Elijah's voice quiet as he spoke with Hope. Caroline glanced at the younger brother, who averted his gaze at what seemed like a private moment between his brother and his daughter. The flicker of hurt was brief. Within a split second it was gone.
Hope's eyes brimmed with tears when she turned to Caroline, pointedly ignoring the man seated in the chair. Niklaus pulled himself up. The student brushed by her father, then stopped in front of Caroline. She bit her lip, then dove into Caroline's arms and gave her a tight hug. Caroline's arms rose to wrap the girl in an embrace. "We're going to miss you, Hope. But we'll be here, holding your place for you."
"I hope so. This is the first school that hasn't made me want to kill myself," Hope muttered.
Suddenly, three million dollars made sense.
After a few moments, Hope pulled away. She snatched a tissue from the box ready on Caroline's desk. "I'll be back soon. My mom's a trooper."
"I don't doubt it at all." Caroline turned to the brothers, giving Hope the semblance of privacy to collect herself and dry her tears. "Please tell Ms Marshall that we're pulling for her."
"I'll just leave my things here. I'll be back soon. I still have things at home I can use."
Caroline nodded, knowing that should things take a turn for the worst, the Mikaelsons could make arrangements for their daughter. "I'll see you soon, Hope."
She felt a pang at the brief longing gaze that Niklaus Mikaelson had when Hope walked over and hooked her arm around Elijah's arm. The two walked ahead, leaving Niklaus in the office with her. He cleared his throat. "I assume I'll need to sign a form taking her out of the school."
Caroline nodded, pulling a form from her drawer. She waited for his signature on the waiver, then quickly filed it, feeling his watchful eyes. "I think we're clear, Mr Mikaelson."
"Are we?"
"Crystal."
He shook his head. The man took a card from her desk. "Caroline," he said, testing the name on his tongue. A thrill raced up her arms. "What you saw, what it looks like one paper, isn't great." What an understatement. "But if you can keep an open heart, I meant what I said. I'd love the chance to tell you over dinner."
Five years since Stefan died, and today was the first day she felt any leap in her blood. Five years, and it was only now she remembered she was a woman.
The way he looked at her, she swore the silent plea was pulling at her. The noise of the helicopter started up again. Around them, the curtains of the room whipped and fluttered. Caroline sighed in frustration as the papers that the Mikaelsons gathered scattered around her. She pushed at him to hurry before he gets left behind. He would not budge.
"One dinner," she finally agreed.
His lips curved. "I'll call you," he said, holding up her card.
tbc
