I had not touched her, or him, or anyone.

My hands were clean, entirely, provably.

The assault they were threatening to allege had never happened, and there was a room full of witnesses and, I now knew, a video that would show exactly who had put their hands on whom.

In the heat of that banquet, my rage had wanted to hit them, and if I had, I would now be facing a real accusation, my own conduct muddying the water, my clean case against them compromised by my own retaliation.

Instead I had walked out having done nothing but pick up my child, and it meant that their threat was not just a lie but a self-destructive one.