Chapter 2 - They Were Waiting for Her
Principal Aaron Bell met Victoria before she reached the classroom.
That was the first thing she noticed.
He was already standing in the main hallway.
Not running.
Not confused.
Waiting.
“Victoria.”
She did not shake his hand.
“Where is my son?”
“In the counselor’s office.”
“Take me to him.”
“We should discuss what happened first.”
“No.”
Bell lowered his voice.
“There are circumstances—”
“My twelve-year-old son had his hair cut against his will in front of his class.”
“I understand how the video looks.”
Victoria stared.
“How it looks?”
“We need to avoid escalating.”
“Move.”
Bell hesitated.
Then stepped aside.
Logan sat inside the counselor’s office with a towel around his shoulders.
Someone had tried brushing the loose hair from his clothes.
It had not worked.
Dark strands still clung to his collar.
Victoria stopped in the doorway.
Logan looked up.
“Mom.”
Everything in her face changed.
She crossed the room and crouched.
“Oh, honey.”
He immediately covered the left side of his head.
Victoria gently caught his wrist.
“You don’t have to hide.”
His eyes filled.
“Everyone saw.”
“I know.”
“I look stupid.”
“No.”
“I do.”
Victoria did not lie.
“The haircut looks terrible.”
Logan stared at her.
Then a broken laugh escaped through his tears.
She touched his cheek.
“You don’t.”
He leaned into her.
For several seconds Victoria forgot the school.
The company.
The board vote.
Everything except the boy shaking against her.
Then Logan whispered:
“She said I deserved it.”
Victoria pulled back.
“Why?”
“My assignment.”
“What assignment?”
“I missed one page.”
“That’s it?”
Logan looked toward the counselor.
“She said I was disrespectful when I asked to finish it tonight.”
Victoria stood.
Principal Bell remained near the doorway.
“Where is Ms. Prescott?”
“In my office.”
“Good.”
“Victoria—”
“I’m taking Logan home.”
“Of course.”
“And then I’m coming back.”
Bell’s expression changed.
“We can handle this internally.”
“No.”
“I have already placed Ms. Prescott on administrative leave.”
“You placed her on leave after a student sent me a video.”
“We were still determining—”
“Stop.”
Bell stopped.
Victoria turned to Logan.
“Do you want to come with me when I talk to her?”
His face tightened.
“No.”
“Then you won’t.”
Simple.
She called her driver and asked him to take Logan home with Victoria’s executive assistant, who had arrived behind her.
Logan grabbed her hand.
“Mom.”
“Yes?”
“She hates you.”
Victoria frowned.
“Ms. Prescott?”
He nodded.
“How do you know?”
“She said your name before.”
“When?”
“A lot.”
Victoria’s anger shifted.
“What did she say?”
“That people like you think money fixes everything.”
Bell interrupted.
“Logan has been experiencing conflict with authority for several weeks.”
Victoria turned.
“My son is speaking.”
Bell fell silent.
Logan continued.
“She asked if you remember someone named Lydia.”
Victoria froze.
“Lydia who?”
Logan looked toward the hallway.
“Prescott.”
The name meant nothing.
At first.
Then something moved deep in Victoria’s memory.
A personnel file.
Twelve years ago.
Crownwell.
Lydia Prescott.
She could not remember why.
“Did Ms. Prescott say who Lydia is?”
“No.”
“What did she say?”
Logan swallowed.
“She said someday you’d remember.”
Victoria stared.
Then she kissed his forehead.
“Go home.”
After Logan left, Victoria entered Bell’s office.
Ms. Prescott sat beside the window.
No scissors.
No apology.
Her face was composed.
Victoria closed the door.
“You cut my son’s hair.”
Ms. Prescott looked at her.
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“He needed a consequence he could not ignore.”
“That isn’t discipline.”
“You raised a boy who believes your name protects him.”
Victoria stepped closer.
“My son begged you to stop.”
“He begs whenever consequences become uncomfortable.”
Victoria’s hands curled.
“Do not diagnose my child to justify what you did.”
Ms. Prescott’s jaw tightened.
“You came.”
Victoria stopped.
“What?”
Ms. Prescott looked directly at her.
“I knew you would.”
Something about the answer chilled her.
“You wanted me here.”
“Yes.”
Bell moved.
“Ms. Prescott—”
“No.”
She ignored him.
“For twelve years I wondered what it would take to make Victoria stop what she was doing and actually look at the person in front of her.”
Victoria stared.
“I don’t know you.”
“That’s the problem.”
“Who is Lydia Prescott?”
For the first time, pain crossed Ms. Prescott’s face.
“My sister.”
Victoria’s memory sharpened.
Lydia Prescott.
Internal audit.
Termination.
Missing scholarship funds.
A document Victoria had signed when Logan was less than six months old and she had just returned from maternity leave.
“You worked at Crownwell?”
“My sister did.”
Victoria slowly sat.
Ms. Prescott continued.
“You signed the paper that destroyed her career.”
Victoria remembered a compliance packet prepared by Malcolm.
Evidence that Lydia had diverted money from an employee scholarship trust.
Termination for cause.
Confidential settlement.
No criminal referral because the funds were supposedly recovered.
Victoria had signed.
“You cut my son’s hair because of an employment case from twelve years ago?”
Ms. Prescott’s eyes hardened.
“I cut your son’s hair because you have spent twelve years believing signatures don’t bleed.”
Bell stood.
“That is enough.”
Victoria turned to him.
“No. It isn’t.”
Her phone vibrated.
Grace Chen.
Victoria answered.
“Grace.”
Grace’s voice was tense.
“The board took the vote.”
Victoria stood.
“What?”
“Malcolm reconvened after you left.”
“He didn’t have my approval.”
“He had quorum.”
Victoria felt cold.
“Result?”
“Five-four.”
The $480 million Northstar sale had received provisional board approval.
Victoria looked at Bell.
Then Ms. Prescott.
The timing.
Her son.
The board meeting.
Grace continued.
“And Victoria?”
“Yes?”
“Malcolm knew why you left before I did.”
Victoria stopped breathing.
“How?”
“I asked who told him.”
“What did he say?”
“He said, ‘Hawthorne called.’”
Victoria slowly raised her eyes toward Principal Bell.
Bell’s face went pale.
Ms. Prescott looked at him too.
Confused.
For the first time, Victoria saw that even she had not understood the full plan.
Victoria ended the call.
Then asked Bell:
“Who did you call when Hannah sent that video?”
Bell said nothing.
“Who?”
Ms. Prescott stood.
“Aaron?”
Bell looked toward the door.
Victoria understood.
May you like
Her son’s humiliation had dragged her out of a board meeting exactly when Malcolm needed her gone.
And the school principal had somehow been part of the timing.
