Whitmore?”
Noah looked confused.
“Her name isn’t Whitmore.”
Sloane’s face flushed.
Graham interrupted.
“That is irrelevant.”
Mrs.
Ellison did not look away from Noah.
“What did your father ask you to call her today?”
Noah swallowed.
“He said not to correct her.”
The silence that followed felt different from the earlier silence.
This one no longer protected Graham.
He pushed back his chair.
“This is absurd.
He’s a child.
You’re placing him in the middle of an adult dispute.”
I looked at the faint red marks his fingers had left on Noah’s blazer shoulder.
“He was already in the middle,” I said.
“You brought him there.”
Sloane reached for Graham’s wrist.
“We should leave.”
Mrs.
Ellison closed the door before either of them could stand.
“The interview is not continuing,” she said.
“Before anyone leaves, our student welfare counselor will speak privately with Noah.
Hawthorne does not proceed with an application when consent is disputed or when a child appears to be under pressure to misidentify a parent.”
Graham stared at her.
“Are you denying my son admission because of her behavior?”
“No decision about Noah’s admission has been made.
I am suspending the process because of yours.”
His confidence finally cracked.
He pointed at me.
“She planned this.
She set me up.”
Mrs.
Ellison rested one hand on the application.
“I asked her to attend after reviewing documents you submitted.”
Graham looked down at the file.
Every lie he had told was still there in ink.
Sloane stood and reached for her handbag.
As she moved, the pearls caught the light.
I had tried not to look at them again, but now I could not stop myself.
“Those earrings belonged to my mother,”
I said.
Sloane froze.
Graham’s eyes closed briefly.
She touched one pearl.
“Graham gave them to me.”
“They were in the locked drawer of my dressing table.”
“He said they were family jewelry.”
“They are.
My family’s.”
Sloane turned toward him.
“You told me your mother gave them to you.”
Graham’s voice sharpened.
