*God, she is stupid.*
After some discreet digging, I'd confirmed my suspicions: Caroline James was nothing more than Caleb Whitney's mistress.
Caleb was a classic social climber—a man who had changed his surname just to marry into the prestigious Whitney family and secure a life of luxury. Once his position was solidified, however, he evidently felt the urge to spread his seed elsewhere.
Caroline had no idea that her arrogance was pushing both of them toward a cliff's edge.
I remained silent, handing the other children off to their parents one by one. Mistaking my silence for submission, Caroline smirked.
"If you know you're wrong, then give the Prince role to my son. I'm feeling generous today, so I won't hold a grudge."
I smiled politely. "Sure, as long as Jonathan can pass tomorrow's 'Prince Selection.'"
Her patience snapped. "My son is exceptional. Why not just give it to him directly? Why make this so complicated?"
"It's about fairness to the other children." I kept my voice smooth, pleasant. "If Jonathan is as outstanding as you say, what are you worried about?"
Realizing she wasn't gaining any ground, Caroline glared at me, then spun on her heel and sashayed away, hips swaying with exaggerated arrogance.
The moment she disappeared through the door, the other parents and teachers surrounded me. Thumbs went up. Shoulders relaxed.
"Ms. Henson, you're amazing. You have no idea how much we've suffered because of her these past six months."
"Exactly. If we say anything even remotely fair in the group chat, she jumps down our throats and unleashes a torrent of abuse."
"We tried filing a joint complaint, but her husband buried it. We can't touch her. Ms. Henson, please, you have to help us."
It wasn't that they couldn't touch her.
They were just pushing from the wrong angle.
That night, I sent an announcement to the parents' group chat:
**[New Year's Day is approaching. Time is tight. To ensure fairness, I have organized a 'New Year's Day Role Selection.' Tomorrow, we officially begin testing. We will evaluate three areas: singing, etiquette, and cooperation. All parents are invited to serve as judges.]**
The moment I hit send, Caroline launched her offensive.
**[Caroline: You all better vote for my son as the Prince. If you don't, my Jonathan will make sure your little brats get 'educated' in the future.]**
The parents, emboldened by my earlier stand, ignored her completely. A stream of "Received" responses flooded beneath my message.
Not a single one acknowledged her threat.
Enraged, Caroline flooded the chat with unhinged curses.
With evidence delivered right to my doorstep, I naturally took screenshots of everything.
The next day, the selection began. Every child performed admirably in their chosen roles—until it was Jonathan Barber's turn.
It was a disaster.
During the singing segment, he forgot the lyrics and resorted to spitting at the judges. During the etiquette segment, he grabbed a judge's water cup and smashed it on the floor. And during the cooperation segment, when no one wanted to partner with him, he threw himself on the ground and rolled around screaming.
Caroline didn't seem embarrassed in the least. She clapped wildly, shouting, "Jonathan is doing great! Amazing!"
The final vote was brutal.
Jonathan received zero votes.
Another boy, Patrick Martinez, was unanimously elected as the Prince.
Caroline exploded. She slammed her hand onto the table, face contorted with rage.
"Didn't we agree you would all vote for my son?!" she shrieked. "You colluded! My husband is in the Department of Education. Believe it or not, I'll make sure none of your kids ever go to school again!"
I calmly displayed the voting records on the screen. "The selection is public, Jonathan's mom. It's not about who has the loudest voice."
A pause. I let the silence stretch.
"I'm sorry, but Jonathan isn't suitable for the Prince role. However, I can design a special 'Troublemaker' role for him."
Caroline's face went from red to a sickly shade of purple. A trembling finger jabbed toward my nose. "Olivia Henson! You did this on purpose. I won't let you get away with this. Just you wait!"
She stormed out and immediately wrote a report, denouncing me for "abusing Jonathan Barber" and "inciting parents to ostracize a student."
I just didn't expect her tantrum to alarm my father.
I usually kept a low profile, so no one at the kindergarten knew my father held a senior position in the Department of Education.
When Dad called to ask what was happening, I simply told him I would handle it but insisted he attend the New Year's Day performance.
Meanwhile, Caleb Whitney began applying pressure. He demanded I be severely punished and froze the kindergarten's "inclusive subsidy."
Principal Bonnie Randolph was beside herself. She paced her office, wringing her hands. "Ms. Henson, without that subsidy, the school will go bankrupt... Can't you just soften your attitude a little?"
I pulled a thick stack of documents from my bag and looked at Bonnie with a conspiratorial smile. "Principal, I have a way to drag Caroline James—and the Caleb Whitney you're so afraid of—down into the mud. Are you ready to play the long game?"
Her eyes widened. "Wh-what do you plan to do?"
"On the day of the performance," I said icily, "she will personally walk herself into a trap."
