My neighbor kept insisting she spotted my daughter at home during school hours. To be sure, I pretended to leave for work—then hid beneath the bed. Minutes later, I heard more than one set of footsteps crossing the hallway.

“He hasn’t met me,” I said. “And he hasn’t met us.”

I looked at Lily. “You mentioned proof. Halloway said you needed physical proof. Do you have any?”

Lily hesitated, then nodded. She reached into her backpack and pulled out her laptop. She opened a hidden, password-protected folder labeled Biology Project.

Inside was not biology. It was an archive of trauma.

Screenshots of text messages: “Die.” “No one wants you here.” “You’re worthless.”

Pictures of bruises. Videos taken discreetly under desks of lockers being slammed. Screen captures of emails sent to teachers that went unanswered.

And then, the smoking gun.

“Where did you get these email threads?” I whispered, scrolling through a correspondence between the Vice Principal and Halloway.

Subject: The Carter Issue
From: Principal Halloway
“Ignore the complaints from the Carter girl. She’s seeking attention. If we document it, our incident numbers go up. Just manage her.”

“Ms. Reynolds gave them to me,” Lily said. “Ms. Chloe Reynolds. The new English teacher. She tried to help us. She tried to report the bullies. But Halloway threatened to fire her. She slipped a flash drive into my bag yesterday. She said, ‘Keep this safe until you find someone brave enough to use it.’”

Ms. Reynolds had risked her career to arm these children.

I felt a surge of adrenaline. This wasn’t just a bullying case anymore. This was a conspiracy.

I copied everything onto a secure cloud drive and two separate flash drives.

Then I turned to the kids. “Give me your parents’ numbers. All of them.”

“They’ll be mad,” Harper whispered.