“Well, if it isn’t Claire,” he said, smiling cruelly. “Heard your kid took a tumble. Clumsy. Just like you.”
On the couch, his son Ethan played video games, volume blasting.
I faced the boy.
“Ethan, did you push Ava down the stairs?”
He didn’t even look up. “Yeah. She was in my way.”
Principal Monroe paled.
Daniel laughed. “That’s my son. Strong.”
“She has a broken arm,” I said evenly.
Daniel stepped close. “Let’s not exaggerate. I’ll write you a check. Ten thousand. Transfer her somewhere more appropriate. Like mother, like daughter. Both failures.”
“Do you think this is about money?” I asked quietly.
“Everything is.”
Ethan stood and shoved me. “Leave, old lady. My dad owns this place.”
Assault.
I slipped my phone from my pocket. It had been recording since I walked in.
“Just to confirm,” I said calmly, “you’re admitting your son intentionally pushed my daughter?”
“I’m admitting he asserted dominance,” Daniel said smugly. “It’s a competitive world.”
“And you’re aware?” I asked the principal.
Monroe stammered. “Kids roughhouse…”
“And he just shoved me,” I added.
Daniel rolled his eyes. “Go ahead. Call the cops. I golf with the commissioner.”
“I’m not calling the police,” I said.
I tapped the screen.