The cold metal sat heavy under my thumb.

He hadn’t backed down at all.

He’d built a paper trail to make it look like I’d admitted Matty was lying before I ever set foot on the gym floor.

If I walked into that building in plain working clothes without my service credentials, Wyler would stand at the portable PA mic in front of three hundred sixth graders and announce that I couldn’t verify my record.

Valerie Thorne would be standing by the stage holding Wyler’s official email, believing I’d given up.