Chapter 43: Parent-Teacher Warzone
(AURIANNA’S POV)
The headmistress stands the second we walk in, smoothing her skirt like we’ve just interrupted something important—which, judging by the stiff look on Connor’s parents’ faces, we probably have.
“Mr. Beaumont,” she says with this polished little smile that looks like it’s been practiced in a mirror. She gestures to the empty chairs in front of her desk. “Have a seat.”
Zayne walks forward, irritation bleeding subtly off him. I sit beside him, crossing one leg over the other, trying to pretend my pulse isn’t doing gymnastics.
The headmistress settles back into her chair, folds her hands, and then her gaze shifts to me.
“And you must be Mrs. Beaumont.”
I let out a snort so fast I almost choke on it.
“What?” I blurt, my eyebrows shooting up.
At the same exact time, Zayne lets out an awkward chuckle, shaking his head. “No, no. Nope. Absolutely not.”
We start talking over each other like two idiots caught in a bad sitcom.
I say, “Yeah, you're definitely mistaken, I’m not—”
Zayne cuts in, waving a hand, “Mm-mm. Not my wife. Not even close.”
“Yeah,” I add, pointing a thumb at him. “I’m just his security consultant.” I slowly look him up and down, “I’d never get married to… that.”
Zayne shoots me a side glare. “Excuse me?”
I shrug innocently and he shakes his head like he’s praying for patience he absolutely does not have.
The headmistress coughs softly. “My apologies. I just assumed you were his wife.”
“It’s fine,” Zayne says, even though the edge in his voice says it’s absolutely not fine.
She nods, then continues, “Well, Mr. Beaumont, Brielle’s mother should also be present for this.”
I feel Zayne freeze beside me.
He doesn’t say anything for a few seconds. He just breathes in, breathes out, and his eyes drop for a moment. When he lifts them again, he forces a small smile—not reaching anywhere near his eyes.
“Brielle’s mom passed away,” he says quietly. “A few years ago.”
“O-oh… um…” The headmistress stumbles over her words, flustered. “I’m so sorry, I—”
“No wonder,” Connor’s mom cuts in sharply. “No wonder the girl has no manners. She had no mother to raise her.”
My head snaps toward her so fast my neck almost cracks.
Her husband immediately sputters, “Honey, maybe don’t—”
But Zayne gets there first. His voice drops low, dangerous. “I’ll have you know my daughter is very well-behaved. And since enrolling in this school, she’s been at the top of her class.”
Connor’s mom glares daggers at him, eyeing him up and down. “If she’s so well-behaved then why is my son in the hospital with a dislocated arm?”
“At least it’s not broken,” I mutter before I can stop myself.
Zayne whips his head toward me, shooting me a look.
Connor’s mom’s jaw drops. “Are you serious right now?”
“Oh, I’m very serious,” I shoot back, leaning forward just a little. “You should try it sometime.”
Her face goes bright red. Her husband tries to hold her arm, murmuring, “Just calm down, sweetheart—”
She jerks away. “Don’t tell me to calm down!”
I swear she’s two seconds away from lunging across the room, and honestly I want her to.
Cause I'd whoop her ass into an early grave.
The headmistress stands abruptly with her palms out. “Everyone, please. We’re all adults here. Let’s be civilized.”
Connor’s mom glares at me.
I glare back.
Zayne pinches the bridge of his nose, mumbling something under his breath.
The headmistress clears her throat and reclaims the room. “Right. Mr. Beaumont, Mr. and Mrs. Ashford—we’re here to understand what happened between Brielle and Connor. Brielle has never been in trouble before, so today’s incident was… surprising.”
She flips a page on her clipboard.
“The supervising teacher states that Connor and Brielle were playing. But Brielle became upset, pinned Connor down, put him in a hold, and twisted his arm. The teacher says she’s never seen a child do such a maneuver. When she asked where Brielle learned it, Brielle said—and I quote—‘My daddy’s spy taught me.’”
She turns to Zayne.
“Mr. Beaumont, care to explain?”
Zayne opens his mouth, but I jump in first.
“That one’s on me,” I say, lifting a hand. “I taught Brielle those moves. I didn’t expect her to actually use them… let alone send a kid to the hospital.”
Connor’s mom gasps like I just confessed to murder.
I continue anyway. “But this wasn’t just kids playing. Brielle came to me on her own and told me that Connor’s been bothering her for weeks. Taking her things and making her chase him around for it. Pulling her hair. Ruining her artwork. Kicking her seat out from under her. Constantly trying to get her attention. It might seem small, but nonstop? Every day? It adds up. Anyone would get frustrated.”
Connor’s mom scoffs. “That’s not a reason for her to beat up my son.”
Zayne speaks before I can. “And I’m sorry for that. Truly. Brielle shouldn’t have hurt him. Look, how about I cover your son's medical expenses—”
Connor’s mom laughs right in his face. “Do we look poor to you? We’re perfectly capable of handling our son’s bills, thank you very much. You think just because you’re some billionaire hotshot you can just offer to throw money in our faces and we’ll take it? Oh please, you’re lucky we’re not pressing charges.”
I picture myself leaping across the room, getting a handful of this bitch's hair and yanking until she screams.
But I sit still. I smile politely.
Because I’m civilized, unfortunately.
The headmistress clasps her hands on the desk. “Mr. Beaumont, as fortunate as we are that Connor’s parents aren’t pursuing legal action… Brielle still needs to face consequences. We have a zero-tolerance policy regarding physical violence here at our school.”
Zayne’s posture straightens. “So… what are you trying to say?”
The headmistress sighs.
“Brielle will be suspended for two weeks.”