She didn’t look at Elise when she began. She addressed the table. “I would like to outline a pattern of behavior,” she said evenly. “Not a single incident.”
The room stilled as Avery described the private confrontations with Elise between classes—just enough witnesses to ensure humiliation, never enough to create accountability.
Avery repeated the language Elise had used without embellishment. That she was background. That she onlymattered when Mila was present. That people tolerated her because she was attached to someone more interesting.
She described how the comments escalated—her clothes, her laugh, her family. How Elise framed it as observation. How she pressed harder when ignored. How she made sure the last line always landed.
Then she addressed the financial undertone. Remarks about relevance. About whose families held influence. About how quickly people adjust when someone stops being useful.
She didn’t call it bullying or cruelty. She called it sustained isolation. And when laid out without emotion, it was worse.
“It was incremental,” she continued. “Which made it difficult to identify as harassment at the time. It didn’t happen in one public confrontation. It occurred through isolation.”
The assistant headmaster’s pen moved steadily across paper.
Avery’s composure didn’t falter. “Her bullying made me wonder if anyone would notice if I was gone.”
Chase’s head snapped toward her. Tears ran unchecked down Avery’s mom’s pale cheeks.
The assistant headmaster glanced up, emotion held in check. “Did you report this at the time?”
“No,” Avery replied. “When you’re brought that low, when your confidence is shredded to the point that you contemplate ending your life to make it stop, reporting it doesn’t feel like a lifeline. Besides, there was nothing singular to report. That was the point. It was my word against hers, and with her father’s clout, it would’ve been brushed under the rug, like so many things are.”
Elise’s lips curved faintly at the corner, almost imperceptibly, as if the phrasing amused her.
“The pattern repeated. When Mila came back, the rumors escalated. Anonymous accounts appeared within hours of thingsthat were only discussed privately. Details that hadn’t left small rooms somehow ended up everywhere.”
The faculty member on the left shifted in her seat.
“Are you asserting that Ms. Dunn orchestrated these accounts?” the assistant headmaster asked.
“I’m saying the accounts consistently surfaced immediately after private interactions involving her,” Avery replied evenly. “The timing isn’t random.”
After Avery returned to her seat, the room didn’t feel the same.
Mila rose next. She placed a folder on the table and opened it with careful hands. “I have compiled documentation,” she began.
Screenshots were distributed across the table. Anonymous texts. Timestamps. Direct messages. She pointed out alignment without embellishment.
Because Elise’s threat at the gala was tied to Adriana and her feeding information to the feds, we’d decided to leave that one out, for now.
“This message was received at 3:42 p.m. On that day, Elise was present outside the art wing shortly before I left. At 4:03 p.m., Logan Mitchel was absent from hockey practice although he was on school grounds after hours.”
The assistant headmaster’s gaze narrowed. “You’re drawing a connection.”
“I’m presenting a timeline,” Mila replied. Her voice did not waver. “On three separate occasions, rumors surfaced within hours of private conversations that occurred in rooms where Ms. Dunn was present.” She paused only long enough to let that settle. “The repetition is documented.”
“That’s speculation,” Elise replied evenly. “There’s no direct evidence.” Her voice carried polished confidence.
“On the day Logan Mitchel assaulted me in the hallway, he’d been absent from hockey practice. He approached me in an empty corridor after it was known I was alone. Elise had direct knowledge of my location that afternoon.”
Headmaster Miller remained near the back wall rather than taking a seat at the table.
The assistant headmaster folded her hands again. “And the anonymous text?”
“It was sent from a prepaid device purchased in Blackwood,” Mila continued. “It referenced ‘distance would be smarter.’”
The faculty member on the right looked up abruptly at that. “Distance from whom?” she asked.