The kid shoved me and smirked. “My dad bankrolls this school. I decide what happens here.”

When he proudly admitted it, I made one call.

“We’ve got the proof.”

They picked the wrong child.

They picked the daughter of the State Supreme Court Chief Justice.

Chapter 1: The Hospital

Hospitals always smell the same.

Disinfectant. Cold air. Quiet panic.

Usually that scent meant work for me—interviews, legal reports, victims’ statements.

But today it meant something else.

It meant my daughter was hurt.

“Mom… it hurts.”

The small voice came from the hospital bed where Ava, my eight-year-old daughter, lay curled beneath a blanket. Her arm was wrapped in a brand-new cast.

But the cast wasn’t what broke my heart.

The purple bruise spreading across her cheek did.

“I know, sweetheart,” I whispered, brushing her hair back. “The medicine will help soon.”

Her eyes looked older than they should have.

“I don’t want to go back to school,” she said softly.

“You don’t have to,” I told her. “But I need to know what happened.”

She hesitated.

Then whispered the name.

“Dylan.”

My stomach tightened.

“Did Dylan push you?” I asked gently.

She nodded.

“He wanted my lunch money. I said no. He shoved me down the stairs.”