The footage was crystal clear. Fiona's nephew shoved Moira first.
Moira hit the wall and stayed there, head down, silent.
She didn't react until the boy's eyes darted sideways and he brought me into it.
"Is it because you're not really his kid? Is that why your dad dumped you?"
"Your mom's just used goods nobody wants! And she had you, you little bastard!"
Only then did Moira snap her head up, something inside her breaking loose.
She lunged at the boy and tackled him to the ground.
But before she could do anything else, the teacher rushed over and pulled them apart.
When Alvin's assistant moved to play the office footage next, Fiona's composure cracked. She grabbed the reluctant boy by the arm and dragged him in front of Moira.
Her apology dripped with rehearsed sincerity. "I'm so sorry, sweetie. I was wrong to blame you."
"I'll have Tyler apologize right now. You're such a kind, generous girl—you'll forgive us, won't you?"
Guilt-tripping a child. Alvin's expression turned even colder.
He gave his assistant a nod. The footage kept playing.
It captured everything in sharp detail: Fiona deliberately pinching bruises into the boy's arm, fabricating evidence to frame Moira.