I shoved the door open.

The scene before me froze my heart in my chest.

Lily was backed into a corner near the sinks. She was shivering violently. Her white cotton dress—her best dress—was soaked through. Her hair was plastered to her skull. Water dripped from her nose and chin, pooling on the tiled floor.

Vanessa was standing over her, holding a large plastic cup she must have taken from the dispenser. She was filling it again from the tap.

“You look like trash,” Vanessa sneered, looming over my daughter. “Look at you. A drowned rat. Who would accept a child who looks like this? You should leave right now before you embarrass your mother any further.”

She raised the cup.

“Vanessa!” I screamed.

Vanessa spun around. She didn’t look guilty. She didn’t look scared. She looked annoyed that she had been interrupted.

“Oh,” she said, lowering the cup but not dropping it. “I was just helping her wake up. It was an accident. The tap… sprayed her.”

I looked at the cup in her hand. I looked at the deliberate cruelty in her eyes.

“You locked the door,” I said, my voice trembling with a rage I had never felt before.

“To give her privacy while she dried off,” Vanessa lied smoothly. She tossed the cup into the trash bin. ” honestly, Clara, look at her. She’s a mess. You can’t send her into an interview like that. Just take her home. Save yourself the rejection letter.”

She stepped past me, checking her reflection in the mirror and adjusting a stray hair.

“You’re pathetic,” she whispered as she walked by. “Both of you.”

I rushed to Lily, pulling off my blazer to wrap around her shivering frame. “It’s okay, baby. Mommy’s here.”

“She poured water on me,” Lily sobbed into my shoulder. “She said I was dirty.”

I held her tight, watching Vanessa’s retreating back in the mirror.

“She poured cold water on my child to wash away the competition,” I whispered to the empty room. “She didn’t realize she was actually pouring gasoline on her own son’s future, and I was the one holding the match.”

Vanessa pushed the door open and walked out, believing she had won the war before the first shot was fired.

“Mommy, I want to go home,” Lily cried, her teeth chattering. “I don’t want to do the interview. Everyone will laugh at me.”

“No one is going to laugh at you,” I said firmly, wiping her face with a paper towel. “And we are certainly not going home.”

I picked her up, ignoring the water soaking into my own blouse. I didn’t head back to the waiting room. Instead, I walked further down the hall, past the restricted area signs, to a door marked Private: Administration.

I tapped my key card again.

My executive assistant, Mrs. Higgins, looked up from her desk, startled. “Mrs. Vance? Oh my goodness, what happened to Lily?”

“An incident,” I said curtly. “Mrs. Higgins, please take Lily into my private lounge. Get her a hot chocolate and a blanket. And find the spare uniform we keep for sizing—the smallest size.”

“Right away, Principal Vance,” Mrs. Higgins said, leaping into action.

I kissed Lily on the forehead. “You stay with Mrs. Higgins. Mommy has a small matter to handle. I will be right back.”

Once Lily was safe, I walked into my office. It was a spacious room with floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the campus grounds. I went to my private bathroom and looked in the mirror.

Clara the Sister-in-Law looked tired, soft, and easily bullied.

I washed my face. I pulled my hair back into a tight, severe bun. I opened my closet and took out a fresh blazer—black, structured, authoritative. I put it on.

When I looked in the mirror again, Clara was gone. Principal Vance stared back. Her eyes were hard. Her posture was steel.

I walked to my desk and picked up a file. Brad Miller. I scanned the documents. The donation receipt was clipped to the front—$50,000 for the library. Vanessa thought that was a golden ticket. To me, it was just a receipt.

I checked the time. Brad’s interview was starting in two minutes.

I walked to the connecting door that led directly into the main Interview Room. I could hear voices on the other side.

“Yes,” Vanessa’s voice boomed, full of confidence. “We are very close to the Principal’s family. My husband is practically her brother… spiritually speaking. We haven’t met her in person yet, she’s very reclusive, but I’m sure she knows who we are.”

I placed my hand on the doorknob.

“Oh, she knows,” I whispered.

I turned the handle.