Page 44 of The Headmaster’s Rule

We reach her car, a cherry-red Mini Cooper with a dent in the driver’s side. She opens the door, shoves her bag inside, then turns to look up at me.

“What happened last year?”

I open and close my mouth, glancing away.

“I have a right to know,” she adds. “It was pretty embarrassing having donors tell me they were unhappy about how it went last year, only to have no clue about what they were talking about.”

I grimace, cursing myself. I can’t believe I let her approach donors. It should have been me.

“You’re right,” I say, pressing my fingertips to my eyelids. I have to tell her. “The teacher who ran last year’s fundraiser claimed they gave the funds to a local charity, and instead pocketed the money for themselves.”

“Shit,” Eleanor whispers, wide-eyed. It’s the first time I’ve heard her curse, and despite everything, it makes me smile.

“Indeed.”

“But…” She rubs her brow. “How is that your fault?”

My smile fades. “I should have caught it.”

“How?”

“By overseeing the event more closely. Double checking everything. Not trusting someone else to run it.”

“So, you’re expected to do everything yourself? Keep an eye on every single thing that happens in the school?”

“Precisely.”

“I don’t know,” she murmurs.

Of course she doesn’t get it. What did I expect?

“Eleanor, that kind of lapse… it doesn’t only damage the school’s reputation. It erodes the community’s trust. That’s on me.”

She studies me with a creased brow, unconvinced.

“It’s my job to protect the school at all costs,” I say emphatically.

“No,” she counters, gaze turning fierce. “Not at the cost of your own peace. Your mental health.” She cocks her head, scrutinizing me. “You’re really beating yourself up about this, aren’t you?”

I shrug, tugging on the cuff of my shirt. “Somebody has to be held accountable.”

She scoffs, incredulous. “Yeah, the person who did it.”

“Yes, and he was, but I should have spotted it.”

“You made a mistake.” She throws her hands up. “You’re human. You’re busy running an entire school, it’s normal for something to slip through the cracks.”

“No.” My jaw tightens, the weight of responsibility pressing down on me. “It’s unacceptable.”

“Wow.” She lifts her hands to her hips, shaking her head. “Are you this hard on your daughter?”

My brows lift in surprise. This is the first time she’s mentioned Juliana, and it throws me. I am perhaps a little harder on my daughter than I should be, but that’s for her own good.

“I have certain expectations,” I admit. “Yes.”

“If she made a mistake despite trying her best, would you rake her over the coals like this? Constantly berate her? Repeatedly remind her of her failure?”

My jaw falls open in shock. “Of course not.”