"I don''t think so." The sharp voice cut through the tension like a knife.


    All heads turned to see a tall, distinguished man striding toward us. His tailored suit andmanding presence immediately changed the atmosphere.


    I recognized him instantly—the district superintendent.


    Headmaster Gordon''s face drained of color. "Mr. Barnes! I didn''t know you were visiting today."


    "Clearly," the superintendent replied coldly. He surveyed the scene with calcting eyes. "Conrad Thornton called me directly. Something about tant corruption and abuse of power at one of my schools?"


    Mrs. Langley stepped forward, ready to spin her tale. "Sir, there''s been a misunderstanding—"


    "Save it," he cut her off with a raised hand. "I''ve already reviewed the security footage."


    My eyebrows shot up. "I thought there weren''t any cameras monitoring the students?"


    "There aren''t," the superintendent confirmed. "Except for the ones installedst month as part of our new safety initiative. The ones Teacher Ross conveniently forgot about."


    Teacher Ross''s smug expression crumbled.


    "The footage clearly shows Jordan Langley bullying Erin Grenville on multiple asions," the superintendent continued. "Including yesterday''s incident where he threatened her on the stairwell."


    Headmaster Gordon began to stammer. "Well, I—that is—we hadn''t had time to—"


    "I also heard the entire conversation that just took ce," the superintendent interrupted. "Your willingness to expel a victim of bullying to protect your wife''s son is inexcusable."


    He turned to me. "Mr. Knight, I apologize for this disgraceful handling of the situation. I assure you appropriate action will be taken."


    "What kind of action?" I asked, not willing to back down until justice was served.


    The superintendent didn''t hesitate. "Effective immediately, Headmaster Gordon and Teacher Ross are relieved of their positions. As for Jordan Langley, he will be suspended pending a full disciplinary review."


    Mrs. Langley''s mouth fell open. "You can''t do this! My husband runs this school!"


    "Not anymore," the superintendent replied firmly. "And I suggest you leave the premises before I add your behavior to the report."


    Eamon pulled Erin closer as the reality of what had just happened sank in.


    The superintendent turned to them with a softer expression. "Youngdy, I promise you''ll be safe at this school from now on. We''ll have a new administration in ce by tomorrow."


    Erin looked up with wide eyes. "I can stay at my school?"


    "Of course you can," he confirmed with a gentle smile. "This is your school, not theirs."


    As the disgraced headmaster and teacher were escorted away, I felt a surge of satisfaction. Sometimes, justice did prevail.


    After ensuring Erin was settled in her ssroom with a teacher who actually cared, Eamon and I walked back to my car.


    "Thank you," he said quietly. "I don''t know how to repay you for this."


    I shook my head. "No need. Some things are just right to do."


    By afternoon, Erin''s school day had ended, and I decided to treat both siblings to a proper meal. We found ourselves at a popr hot pot restaurant, steam rising from the bubbling broth between us.


    "Can I really have whatever I want?" Erin asked, eyes wide at the extensive menu.


    "Anything," I confirmed. "Today is a celebration."


    As we loaded the pot with thinly sliced beef, mushrooms, and noodles, I noticed Erin still seemed hesitant around me.


    "Erin," I said gently, "is something bothering you?"


    She fidgeted with her chopsticks. "Are you and my brother really friends?"


    I nced at Eamon, who looked equally curious about my answer.


    "Yes," I said firmly. "We are."


    Her face brightened instantly. "Really? Like actual friends?"


    "Actual friends," I confirmed, finding myself smiling at her enthusiasm.


    "See?" She nudged her brother triumphantly. "I told you Mr. Knight was nice!"


    Eamon cleared his throat, embarrassment coloring his cheeks. "I never said he wasn''t."


    "You said he was scary and dangerous," Erin corrected with the brutal honesty only children possess.


    I raised an eyebrow at Eamon, who suddenly became very interested in fishing out a piece of beef from the pot.


    "That was before," he muttered.


    "And now?" I prompted.


    He met my eyes directly. "Now I know better. You''ve done more for us than anyone ever has. You didn''t have to help with Erin''s situation, but you did."


    The simple gratitude in his voice was genuine.


    "That''s what friends do," I replied.


    After dropping Erin back at school for her afternoon art club, Eamon and I returned to our hotel. I spread the Thornton family files across the desk while Eamon made coffee.


    "These people are more connected than I thought," I admitted, flipping through pages of business holdings and political connections.


    Eamon handed me a steaming mug. "Scared?"


    "Cautious," I corrected. "The Thorntons have fingers in every major industry in this region. Taking them on directly would be suicide."


    I traced the family tree disyed on one page. "But they''re not invincible. Not like the aristocratic families in Veridia City."


    "You''ve dealt with worse?" Eamon asked.


    Images shed through my mind—the Ashworth family''s vast influence, the Sterling family''s ruthlessness, the Veridia City Martial Guild''s absolute power. <small ss="frag-4054e2">Love<i ss="node-sep"></i>this<i ss="node-sep"></i>story?<i ss="node-sep"></i>Show<i ss="node-sep"></i>your<i ss="node-sep"></i>support<i ss="node-sep"></i>on<i ss="node-sep"></i>*.</small>


    "Much worse," I confirmed. "The Thorntons are wealthy and connected, but they''re still just a regional power. In Veridia City, there are families who''ve held power for centuries."


    I closed the file, my mind made up. "We''ll handle this carefully. One step at a time."


    The next morning, we loaded our bags into the car for the drive back to Havenwood City. The open road stretched before us, a straight line cutting through rolling hills and farnd.


    "First stop when we get back?" Eamon asked, scrolling through messages on his phone.


    "The factory," I replied. "I want to check on Anthony. Make sure everything''s running smoothly."


    As we pulled into Havenwood City limits, the familiar skyline came into view. It hadn''t been long since I''d left, but it felt like returning from a different world.


    The industrial district loomed ahead, smokestacks puncturing the sky. As we approached the factory, something felt off. The usual bustle of workers was subdued. People moved with an unnatural stiffness, eyes darting nervously.


    "Something''s wrong," I muttered as we parked.


    Eamon nodded. "The security guards—those aren''t our guys."


    He was right. Instead of the familiar faces of Roman''s men, strangers in ill-fitting uniforms stood at the gates. They watched us with suspicious eyes as we walked past.


    Inside wasn''t any better. Workers avoided eye contact, hunching their shoulders as if trying to be invisible. The atmosphere was thick with tension.


    "Where''s Anthony?" I asked a passing foreman.


    The man flinched at my voice. "In—in his office, sir."


    As we approached the management wing, I spotted two of Roman''s men standing outside Anthony''s door. They weren''t acting like guards—more like prisoners on disy.


    When they saw me, their eyes widened in shock.


    "Boss?" one whispered, disbelief written across his face. "You''re alive?"


    Before I could respond, voices filtered through the door—angry, threatening voices.


    "I don''t care what excuses you have, Harding!" a gruff voice barked. "Liam Knight is dead, and Manager Caldwell is in charge now. Either sign these transfer papers or we''ll make you sign them."


    "Please," Anthony''s voice trembled. "This factory belongs to Mr. Knight. I can''t just—"


    A loud p echoed, followed by a pained grunt.


    "You don''t get it, do you?" another voice snarled. "Your precious boss is dead. Probably rotting in some ditch outside the city. Now sign the papers!"


    White-hot fury surged through me. I locked eyes with Eamon, who looked equally enraged.


    Without warning, I kicked the door open.


    The scene inside froze like a twisted tableau. Anthony cowered in the corner, blood trickling from his split lip. Two burly men in expensive suits stood over him, one with his fist still raised.


    "Dead, am I?" I said coldly. "Funny, I don''t feel dead."


    The color drained from their faces as they slowly turned to see me standing in the doorway.


    "But you might be," I continued, stepping into the room. "Unless you exin to me exactly who the hell you are and what you''re doing in my factory."