One thing Jy hated more than seeing pictures of his ex-wife and her slick husband in the society columns of Melbourne newspapers was being summoned by the Education Department. He loathed bureaucracy.
But he loved shaping young minds, so he’d suck it up and front the big wigs. For the third time in two months—some kind of record for the principal of an elite private school, apparently.
‘Mr Bosch will see you now, Mr Atherton.’ The PA pointed to a heavy wooden door to his right. Like he needed the instruction. He’d been privy to the condescension and censure behind it already. What could they say this time? He’d already been warned and he’d chosen to flout the rules. More fool him.
Mustering a tight smile of thanks for the PA, he opened the door. To face a firing squad.








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