Chapter Six Whose Friend Are You? - The Cage He Called Love
By Hasnainhr
Henry called Ben three times on Sunday night.
The first call rang until it ended.
Ben stood near the fireplace in one of Hawthorne House’s drawing rooms, watching Henry’s name glow across the screen. The room was large enough to hold dozens of guests, but only one lamp had been switched on. Its pale light spread across the polished marble floor, untouched furniture and a grand piano no one had played in years.
The phone stopped ringing.
A minute later, it began again.
Ben picked it up, stared at Henry’s name and silenced the call. His fingers remained tightly closed around the device after the screen turned dark.
On the third attempt, he rejected the call immediately.
The drawing room returned to silence.
A message appeared.
I’m home. Sorry I missed your calls. My phone was on silent. Call me when you see this.
Ben read it once.
Then he read it again.
Another message appeared beneath it.
Ben?
His jaw tightened.
He had called Henry twenty-seven times. He had gone to the Bennett house that afternoon and stood in their modest living room while Henry’s mother explained that her son was working on the school project at Anneliese Grace’s home. She had offered him tea and assured him Henry would probably return after lunch.
Henry had not returned after lunch.
When Ben called the Bennett house again that evening, Mrs. Bennett told him Henry had been invited to stay for dinner.
Now, after spending the entire day at Anneliese’s house, Henry had finally remembered his phone.
It began ringing for the fourth time.
Ben stared at the screen until his expression hardened.
Then he hurled the phone across the room.
It struck the marble wall with a sharp crack. The screen shattered on impact, and the device fell near the fireplace, breaking into several pieces.
The sound brought a servant rushing through the double doors.
“Sir, is everything all right?” the man asked.
Ben turned toward him. “Does it look all right?”
The servant stopped near the doorway. His gaze moved briefly toward the broken phone.
“I heard something break,” he said carefully.
“Then your hearing works.”
“I’ll have someone clear it away.”
“No one touches it.”
The servant hesitated. “Sir?”
Ben walked toward him. “Which part of that sentence confused you?”
“None, sir.”
“Then why are you still standing there?”
The servant lowered his eyes. “Your dinner has been waiting for almost an hour. The kitchen asked whether you would prefer something else.”
“I don’t want anything.”
“They were concerned that you had not eaten.”
Ben gave a humourless laugh. “The kitchen is concerned?”
The servant remained silent.
“Where is my father?” Ben demanded.
“Mr. Hawthorne is still in Switzerland, sir.”
“And Celeste?”
“Mrs. Hawthorne is attending a charity event.”
“Of course she is.”
The servant shifted slightly. “Would you like me to contact either of them?”
Ben stepped closer. “Do you think they would answer?”
“I only meant—”
“I know what you meant.”
A second servant appeared at the doorway carrying a silver dinner tray. He slowed when he saw the shattered phone and the first servant standing rigidly in the centre of the room.
“Your dinner, sir,” the second servant said.
“I did not ask for dinner.”
“The kitchen was instructed to prepare something lighter because—”
“Take it away.”
“Yes, sir.”
The servant turned too quickly. A glass slid across the tray and fell onto the marble floor. It shattered, sending water and fragments of glass across the polished surface.
Ben’s expression changed instantly.
“Are all of you completely useless tonight?”
The servant froze. “I apologise, sir.”
“You had one thing to carry.”
“I’ll clean it immediately.”
“Leave it.”
“But the broken glass—”
“I said leave it!”
Ben’s shout echoed through the enormous room.
Both servants fell silent.
Ben swept his arm across the nearby table. A porcelain plate crashed to the floor, breaking beside the spilled water. Silver cutlery scattered across the marble.
“Get out!” he shouted.
The servants hurried toward the doors.
Ben kicked the fallen tray before they could reach them. It slid across the floor and struck the carved leg of an antique table.
“And tell everyone else to stay away from me!”
“Yes, sir,” the first servant replied quickly.
The double doors closed behind them.
For several seconds, Ben stood alone among the broken glass, scattered silverware and pieces of his phone. His chest rose and fell rapidly. One hand remained clenched at his side.
A senior housekeeper appeared cautiously through the side entrance.
“Master Benjamin?”
Ben turned sharply. “What?”
The housekeeper looked at the damage around him. Unlike the younger servants, she did not immediately retreat.
“You will hurt yourself if you continue walking through broken glass,” she said.
“I am wearing shoes.”
“That does not make it sensible.”
“Leave me alone.”
Her attention moved toward the shattered phone near the fireplace. “Was it Mr. Bennett?”
Ben’s face became still.
“I told you to leave.”
“He called the house.”
Ben took a step toward her. “What did you tell him?”
“That you were unavailable.”
“Good.”
“He sounded worried.”
“He should have worried when I called him.”
“Perhaps he did not see the calls.”
“Twenty-seven of them?”
The housekeeper remained quiet for a moment. “He may have had a reason.”
“He was busy.”
The word came out bitter and sharp.
The housekeeper glanced toward the broken phone. “Then you can ask him about it when you are calmer.”
“I don’t need to ask him anything.”
“That may be difficult without a telephone.”
Ben kicked one of the pieces across the floor. “Buy another one.”
“I can arrange it in the morning.”
“I want it tonight.”
“It is almost ten.”
“My father owns the company that supplies half the city.”
“That does not keep every shop open.”
Ben stared at her. “Everything stays open for us.”
The housekeeper held his gaze but did not argue.
“Have another phone delivered,” Ben ordered. “Now.”
“Yes, sir.”
She turned toward the side entrance.
“And don’t tell my father.”
She stopped. “His office receives reports whenever expensive property is damaged.”
“It was a phone.”
“And part of a dinner service.”
Ben glanced at the shattered plate. “Then replace that too.”
The housekeeper left.
The drawing room became silent again.
Ben crossed to the windows and pulled the curtains apart with enough force to tear one of the hooks from the wall. Beyond the glass, the Hawthorne estate stretched beneath the darkness—fountains, gardens, empty pathways and iron gates surrounding a mansion large enough to hold hundreds of people.
Only paid staff remained inside it with him.
Across the room, one piece of the broken phone screen flickered weakly. Henry’s final message appeared through the cracks.
I know you’re angry. We’ll talk tomorrow.
Ben walked back, placed his shoe over the screen and crushed the remaining glass beneath his heel.
“Tomorrow,” he said coldly.
By morning, the servants had removed every sign of the damage.
The broken phone had been replaced. The floor had been polished, the dinner tray returned to the kitchen and the shattered porcelain cleared away.
Ben’s anger remained.
The black Rolls-Royce arrived at St. Gabriel earlier than usual on Monday morning.
The chauffeur opened the rear door at the foot of the school steps. Ben stepped out before the man could properly greet him. His uniform was immaculate, but faint shadows beneath his eyes suggested that he had slept very little.
“Shall I remain nearby, sir?” the chauffeur asked.
“No.”
“What time should I return?”
Ben looked back at him. “After school. The same time you return every day.”
“Yes, sir.”
The Rolls-Royce pulled away.
Several students crossing the courtyard noticed Ben’s early arrival. He usually entered the school only minutes before the bell, and sometimes after it. That morning, he walked directly toward the classroom without stopping to speak to anyone.
Mrs. Whitmore had not yet arrived.
Students stood between the desks, finished homework or discussed their weekends. Near the windows, Henry and Anneliese sat beside one another with the project folder open between them.
Henry held the written report while Anneliese arranged the presentation cards in order. A small container wrapped in transparent paper rested beside Henry’s schoolbag.
“This section should come after the demonstration,” Anneliese said. “Ben cannot explain maintenance before the class understands how the model works.”
Henry moved the card to a different place. “Ben may consider understanding optional.”
“He considers preparation optional.”
“He completed the cost section.”
“After complaining that mathematics had ruined his childhood.”
Henry smiled. “It was a difficult twelve minutes for him.”
Anneliese laughed.
Ben entered just as Henry placed the final card in the folder.
His schoolbag struck the desk with a loud thud.
The conversations nearest them stopped.
Henry looked up. “You’re early.”
Ben gave no reply.
Anneliese’s smile faded. “Good morning, Ben.”
He continued staring at Henry.
Henry closed the project folder. “I called you last night.”
“I noticed,” Ben said.
“You didn’t answer.”
“That was intentional.”
Henry studied his expression. “We should talk outside.”
“No.”
“Ben, this isn’t the place.”
Ben stepped closer to the desk.
“Get up,” he said.
Henry frowned. “What?”
“I said get up.”
Henry glanced at the empty chair on his other side. “Go sit down, Ben. Chill.”
The word changed something in Ben’s face.
“Chill?” he repeated.
“Yes,” Henry replied. “You’re angry. Sit down before you do something stupid.”
Ben reached across the desk and grabbed the front of Henry’s uniform.
The chair scraped violently across the floor as Ben dragged him to his feet. A textbook fell from Henry’s lap and struck the ground.
The classroom went silent.
Henry’s hands closed around Ben’s wrist. He did not strike him.
“Let go of my collar,” Henry said.
“You ignored me all day.”
“My phone was on silent.”
“For the entire day?”
“We were working on the project.”
Ben pulled him closer. “The project required breakfast, lunch and dinner?”
“Her parents asked me to stay.”
“Of course they did.”
“Ben, let him go,” Anneliese said firmly.
She rose from her chair, but Ben did not look at her.
Henry attempted to loosen the hand gripping his collar. “You called twenty-seven times. That isn’t normal.”
“You saw twenty-seven calls and sent one message.”
“I called you back three times.”
“After you went home.”
“Yes, because that was when I saw them.”
“You never looked at your phone once?”
“No.”
“For eleven hours?”
“We were busy.”
Ben gave a short, bitter laugh. “Too busy to remember anything outside her house?”
Anneliese stepped around the desk. “He has answered you. Release him.”
Ben finally turned his head toward her. “Stay out of this.”
“You’re hurting him.”
“This is between me and Henry.”
“You are holding him by his collar in front of the entire class. It stopped being private when you attacked him.”
Ben looked back at Henry.
“Tell me something,” he said.
Henry’s jaw tightened. “Let go first.”
“Are you my friend or hers?”
The question silenced even the students whispering near the back of the room.
Henry stared at him. “What kind of question is that?”
“A simple one.”
“No, it isn’t.”
“You have known her for a few weeks,” Ben said. “A few weeks, and suddenly you forget our plans, ignore my calls and spend your entire Sunday playing happy family at her house.”
Henry’s expression hardened. “Do not speak about her family that way.”
“There it is.”
“There is what?”
“You defending her.”
“Because you’re insulting her.”
“You were my friend before she arrived.”
“I am still your friend.”
“It doesn’t look like it.”
Henry pulled at Ben’s wrist again. “Friends do not drag each other out of chairs.”
“Friends answer their phones.”
“Not twenty-seven times because they happen to be bored.”
Ben pulled Henry closer until only a few inches remained between them. “You don’t know why I called.”
“Then tell me.”
Ben said nothing.
Henry held his gaze. “Exactly.”
Anneliese reached for Ben’s wrist. “Enough. Let him go.”
Ben jerked his arm away from her touch, although his other hand remained twisted in Henry’s collar.
“I told you to stay out of this,” he snapped.
“No.”
Her answer came quietly but without hesitation.
Anneliese had seen Ben arrogant, careless and sarcastic. She had seen him challenge teachers, avoid work and use his surname as though it gave him permission to behave however he wished.
She had never seen him like this.
There was no lazy smile on his face. His jaw was rigid, his voice harsh and his grip tight enough to leave deep creases in Henry’s uniform.
“You know nothing about us,” Ben said.
“I know Henry called you back.”
“He ignored me first.”
“His phone was silent.”
“For an entire day.”
“Yes,” Anneliese replied. “Because we were completing the project you refused to help with.”
Ben’s eyes narrowed. “You think this is about the project?”
“No. I think you need someone to blame.”
“Anneliese,” Henry said cautiously.
She did not step away.
“You chose not to answer him last night,” she continued. “Then you came here angry because Henry did not spend his Sunday waiting for you.”
Ben took one step toward her, pulling Henry with him.
“Be careful,” Ben warned.
Henry moved between them as much as Ben’s grip allowed. “Do not threaten her.”
“I didn’t threaten her.”
“It sounded like one.”
“She should stop interfering in things she does not understand.”
Anneliese lifted her chin. “I understand that you do not know how to share a friend.”
Ben’s expression darkened.
Henry noticed immediately. “Anneliese, step back.”
“No,” Ben said. “Let her continue.”
Anneliese remained where she was. “Henry spending time with another friend does not mean he abandoned you.”
“You arrived, and everything changed.”
“People are allowed to make new friends.”
“He already had one.”
“That is not how friendship works.”
“You have known him for less than a month.”
“And I still know that he is not something you own.”
Ben released Henry’s collar only to shove him backward.
Henry struck the edge of the desk. The project folder and several books fell to the floor. He caught himself against the tabletop and straightened, but he did not move toward Ben.
“Stop this,” Henry said. “You’re making everything worse.”
“You already made it worse.”
“I spent one Sunday somewhere else.”
“You forgot our plan.”
“You invented that plan after refusing to come.”
“I had something to do.”
“You lied about a business lunch.”
“That isn’t the point.”
“It is exactly the point,” Henry replied. “You did not want to work, so you refused to come. Then you became angry because I went without you.”
Ben stepped forward again.
Henry raised one hand. “Stay back.”
“You don’t give me orders.”
“I’m asking you to calm down.”
“You told me to chill.”
“Yes, because you walked into school looking for a fight.”
Ben grabbed Henry’s jacket again.
Anneliese immediately moved between them.
“Let him go, Ben.”
“Move.”
“No.”
“This is your last warning.”
Anneliese did not move. “You do not frighten me.”
Her voice remained steady, but her hands trembled slightly at her sides.
Ben looked down at her. “This started because of you.”
“No,” she replied. “This started because you believe Henry belongs to you.”
“He forgot me because of you.”
“Henry didn’t forget you.”
“Twenty-seven calls.”
“Calling someone twenty-seven times does not give you ownership of his time.”
“He could have checked his phone.”
“He was allowed to spend one day without reporting to you.”
Ben tried to move around her.
Anneliese placed one hand against his arm. “Stop.”
Ben pulled his arm away with a violent movement.
His forearm struck Anneliese across the shoulder.
She lost her balance and stumbled backward. Her hip hit the corner of a desk before she fell to the floor beside an overturned chair.
A gasp moved through the classroom.
Henry turned immediately.
“Anneliese!”
He dropped beside her, one hand reaching toward her shoulder.
Ben froze several feet away.
For the first time since entering the classroom, the anger disappeared from his expression. He looked at Anneliese on the floor and then at his own arm.
“I didn’t mean—”
The classroom door opened.
“What is going on here?”
Principal Aldridge stood in the doorway with Mrs. Whitmore beside him. They had been walking toward the classroom when the noise reached the corridor.
Neither Ben nor Henry answered.
The principal’s gaze moved across the room: the fallen chair, the scattered books, Henry’s damaged collar and Anneliese sitting on the floor with one hand pressed against her shoulder.
“Mr. Hawthorne,” Principal Aldridge said sharply, “step away from them.”
Ben remained still.
“Now.”
Ben took a slow step backward.
Mrs. Whitmore hurried toward Anneliese. “Are you injured?”
“I’m fine,” Anneliese replied, though her voice was unsteady.
Henry carefully helped her sit upright. “Can you move your arm?”
She lifted it slowly. “Yes. I only hit the desk.”
Ben looked toward her shoulder. His mouth opened, but no words came.
Principal Aldridge pointed toward Ben and Henry. “Both of you will come with me.”
Henry rose slowly.
“Sir, it was my fault,” he said.
Ben looked at him sharply.
Anneliese stared at Henry. “No, it wasn’t.”
Henry gave her a small shake of his head.
“I should have handled it better,” he continued.
“Henry, he grabbed you,” Anneliese said.
“Please,” Henry replied softly.
Principal Aldridge’s expression hardened. “This conversation will continue in my office. Mrs. Whitmore, take Miss Grace to the nurse.”
“I need to explain what happened,” Anneliese insisted.
“You will provide a statement after you have been examined.”
Principal Aldridge turned toward the two boys.
“Mr. Hawthorne. Mr. Bennett. Move.”
Henry straightened his damaged collar and walked into the corridor.
Ben followed several steps behind him.
Neither spoke.
The waiting area outside the principal’s office was silent except for the ticking of a clock on the wall.
Henry sat at one end of a long bench, attempting to smooth the collar Ben had crushed in his fist. Red marks had appeared along the side of his neck.
Ben sat at the opposite end with his elbows resting on his knees and his hands tightly clasped together.
His eyes moved toward Henry’s neck once.
Henry noticed, but he looked away before their eyes met.
Mrs. Whitmore stood near the secretary’s desk, writing a short report. Every few minutes, she glanced toward the boys as though expecting the confrontation to begin again.
After nearly fifteen minutes, the nurse brought Anneliese into the waiting area. A cold pack rested against her shoulder.
Henry immediately stood. “Are you all right?”
“Yes.”
“Did you hurt your arm?”
“It will bruise. Nothing is broken.”
Henry’s shoulders relaxed slightly.
Anneliese looked toward Ben. He was watching the cold pack, but the moment she faced him, he lowered his gaze.
Principal Aldridge opened the office door.
“Inside.”
Ben and Henry took the two chairs in front of his desk. Anneliese sat beside Mrs. Whitmore near the wall.
The principal remained standing.
“I want the truth,” he said. “Not excuses and not attempts to protect one another.”
Henry’s eyes moved briefly toward Ben.
“Mr. Bennett,” Principal Aldridge continued, “tell me what caused this confrontation.”
Henry answered before Anneliese could speak.
“It was my fault, sir.”
Ben turned toward him.
Anneliese stared at Henry in disbelief. “No, it wasn’t.”
Henry kept his attention on the principal. “Ben and I had a disagreement. I should have spoken to him earlier and handled it privately.”
Principal Aldridge studied the marks surrounding Henry’s neck. “Did you pull your own collar apart?”
Henry hesitated. “No, sir.”
“Did Mr. Hawthorne grab you?”
Henry looked toward Ben again.
“Yes,” he admitted quietly.
“Why?”
“It was between us.”
“That is not an answer.”
Henry lowered his gaze. “I said something that upset him.”
“Henry,” Ben said.
Principal Aldridge raised one hand. “You will wait for your turn, Mr. Hawthorne.”
Anneliese leaned forward. “Henry did not say anything that justified what Ben did.”
Henry turned toward her. “Anneliese, please.”
“No,” she replied. “You are taking responsibility for something you did not start.”
“I should have known he was upset.”
“That does not make it your fault.”
“I could have prevented it.”
Ben stared at Henry without speaking.
Principal Aldridge turned toward Anneliese. “Miss Grace, describe only what you personally witnessed.”
Anneliese took a steadying breath.
“Ben entered the classroom and told Henry to stand. Henry told him to sit down and calm himself. Ben grabbed Henry by the collar and pulled him from the chair.”
Principal Aldridge looked at Ben. “Is that accurate?”
Ben’s eyes remained on Henry.
“Yes.”
“Did Mr. Bennett strike you?”
“No.”
“Did he attempt to attack you?”
“No.”
“Did he threaten you?”
Ben was silent for a moment. “No.”
“Then why did you seize him?”
Ben’s jaw tightened.
Henry answered before he could speak. “Because I ignored his calls.”
Principal Aldridge looked at him. “Mr. Bennett, I did not ask you.”
Henry fell silent.
The principal returned his attention to Ben. “Why did you seize him?”
“He ignored twenty-seven calls.”
“That does not answer my question.”
Ben looked toward the window. “I was angry.”
“Were you repeatedly asked to release him?”
“Yes.”
“Did you release him?”
“No.”
Principal Aldridge turned toward Anneliese. “What happened to you?”
“I tried to move Ben’s hand away from Henry,” she explained. “He told me to stay out of it. Later, when he grabbed Henry again, I stepped between them.”
“And then?”
“I placed my hand against his arm. He pulled away, and his arm struck my shoulder. I lost my balance.”
“I hit her,” Ben said.
Anneliese shook her head. “Not deliberately.”
Ben looked toward her.
“I know you didn’t intend to,” she added. “But you were out of control.”
The office became silent.
Principal Aldridge faced Ben. “Is that statement accurate?”
“Yes.”
“Did Mr. Bennett use physical force against you at any point?”
“He held my wrist.”
“To make you release his collar?”
Ben looked toward Henry. “Yes.”
“Did he punch, strike or shove you?”
“No.”
Henry leaned forward. “Sir, Ben didn’t mean to hurt Anneliese.”
“That does not remove his responsibility.”
“I know, but he wasn’t trying to attack her.”
Principal Aldridge studied Henry for several seconds. “You appear determined to defend the student who dragged you out of your chair.”
“He is my friend,” Henry replied simply.
Ben looked up.
For the first time since entering the office, there was no anger in his expression.
Principal Aldridge sat behind his desk. “Friendship does not excuse violence, Mr. Bennett.”
“No, sir.”
“And accepting responsibility for another person’s actions does not help him.”
Henry did not answer.
Principal Aldridge opened the disciplinary file on his desk.
“This incident caused a serious disruption, damaged school property and resulted in a student being injured. Mr. Hawthorne initiated the physical aggression. That will be clearly recorded.”
Ben remained silent.
“Mr. Bennett did not strike Mr. Hawthorne,” the principal continued. “However, both of you were engaged in a loud and escalating confrontation in front of an entire classroom.”
Anneliese frowned. “Henry was trying to make Ben let go.”
“I understand that, Miss Grace.”
“Then why should Henry be punished?”
Henry looked toward her. “It’s all right.”
“No, it isn’t.”
Principal Aldridge folded his hands. “The school’s immediate disciplinary policy requires students involved in a serious classroom altercation to be temporarily removed while the incident is formally reviewed. The records will clearly reflect that Mr. Hawthorne initiated the physical contact and that Mr. Bennett did not strike him.”
Henry lowered his eyes.
Principal Aldridge looked at Ben. “You will also meet with the school counsellor regarding anger management before you are permitted to return. Any further physical aggression will place your enrolment at St. Gabriel under review.”
Ben gave a cold laugh. “My father will speak to the board.”
“Your father is welcome to speak with the board.”
“He donated the science centre.”
“His donation paid for a building,” Principal Aldridge replied. “It did not purchase immunity for his son.”
The office became silent.
Ben’s face hardened, but he did not answer.
Principal Aldridge closed the file.
“Your families have been contacted. Neither of you will return to class today. You will wait outside until authorised adults arrive.”
“My father is abroad,” Ben said.
“Then his office will provide someone.”
“He has assistants.”
“Someone will collect you.”
The principal stood. “Mrs. Whitmore will take you back to the waiting area.”
Ben and Henry returned to opposite ends of the bench.
Anneliese remained inside the principal’s office to complete her written statement.
Mrs. Whitmore sat near the secretary and watched both boys closely.
For several minutes, no one spoke.
Henry eventually touched the marks along his neck.
Ben noticed.
His hands tightened together, but he said nothing.
The outer door opened nearly forty minutes later.
Mr. and Mrs. Bennett entered together.
Henry’s mother hurried toward him. “Henry.”
“I’m fine, Mom.”
She touched his cheek and then noticed the marks around his neck. Her expression tightened.
“That does not look fine.”
“The nurse checked me.”
“Did they give you ice?”
“I said I didn’t need it.”
His mother gave him a look.
Henry sighed. “I should have accepted the ice.”
His father stood in front of him. “Did you start the confrontation?”
Henry glanced toward Ben before answering.
“It was partly my fault.”
“That was not what I asked.”
“I should have spoken to him earlier.”
“Did you put your hands on him first?”
“No.”
“Did you hit him?”
“No.”
“Then do not take responsibility for what another person chose to do,” his father said calmly.
Henry lowered his gaze. “He was angry.”
“That does not make it your fault.”
Mrs. Bennett placed one hand gently on Henry’s shoulder. “We will hear the full explanation.”
She then looked toward Ben.
She had known him since he was seven. He had eaten at her kitchen table, slept in their spare room and spent enough weekends in their house to know where she kept the drinking glasses.
There was no anger in her expression.
Only disappointment and concern.
“Ben,” she said quietly, “are you hurt?”
Ben appeared surprised by the question.
“No.”
Her eyes moved over his face and then toward his clenched hands. “Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
“What happened between you?”
Ben looked away. “Nothing.”
Mrs. Bennett glanced at the marks around her son’s neck. “This was not nothing.”
Henry touched her arm. “Mom, please.”
She looked at him.
“He didn’t mean for Anneliese to get hurt,” Henry said.
Mrs. Bennett’s expression softened toward her son but not toward the situation. “Henry, caring for someone does not mean pretending they did nothing wrong.”
The principal’s door opened, and the secretary invited Henry’s parents inside.
Before they entered, Anneliese came out carrying the cold pack at her side.
Mrs. Bennett immediately noticed her shoulder. “Were you hurt too?”
“Only a bruise,” Anneliese replied. “I tried to stop them.”
“Thank you for helping Henry.”
Anneliese looked at him. “I wish I had stopped it sooner.”
“It wasn’t your fault,” Henry said.
Her attention shifted toward Ben.
He remained seated at the opposite end of the room.
For a moment, neither spoke.
Then Anneliese walked toward the bench.
Ben looked up as she stopped several feet away.
“I did not mean to make you fall,” he said.
It was not an apology, but it was the first sentence he had addressed to her since the classroom.
Anneliese held his gaze. “I know.”
Ben’s shoulders lowered slightly.
“But you meant to hurt Henry,” she added.
Ben’s face closed again.
“I was angry.”
“That does not make it acceptable.”
Henry stood. “Anneliese.”
She looked at him.
“Please leave it for now,” he said gently.
She stared at the marks on his neck. “You are still protecting him.”
“He is still my friend.”
Ben looked away.
A few minutes later, a man in a dark suit entered carrying a leather briefcase. He checked his watch before approaching the secretary.
“I am Graham Vale, representing Victor Hawthorne,” he said. “I was told Benjamin required collection.”
Ben looked toward the doorway behind him.
No one else entered.
“Mr. Hawthorne is abroad,” Graham continued. “He has been informed of the incident.”
“And Mrs. Hawthorne?” the secretary asked.
“She is unavailable.”
Ben released a short, humourless laugh.
The secretary handed Graham a form. “Principal Aldridge needs to speak with a parent or authorised guardian before Benjamin may leave.”
Graham checked his watch again. “How long will that take?”
Ben stood abruptly. “If you have somewhere more important to be, leave.”
Graham lowered his voice. “Your father instructed me to handle this.”
“Then handle it without staring at your watch.”
“Benjamin—”
“Do not call me that as though you know me.”
Graham’s expression remained controlled. “I am here because your father requested it.”
“No. You are here because he did not want to be.”
The waiting area became quiet.
Graham closed his briefcase. “Your father is in Switzerland.”
“He owns a plane.”
“Ben,” Henry said softly.
Ben turned toward him. “Stay out of it.”
The words came sharply, but Henry did not react.
Principal Aldridge called Graham into his office before the conversation could continue.
Henry’s parents emerged several minutes later. Mrs. Bennett carried several documents, while Henry’s father rested one hand against his son’s back.
Principal Aldridge followed them into the waiting area.
Graham returned from the office and stood near Ben.
The principal faced both boys.
“The school has completed its initial review,” he said. “Additional disciplinary conditions will be provided to your families in writing.”
Ben and Henry stood several feet apart.
Principal Aldridge looked from one to the other.
“Benjamin Hawthorne and Henry Bennett, you are both suspended from St. Gabriel for one academic week.”
Anneliese looked at Henry. “Both?”
“Yes,” Principal Aldridge replied. “They will leave the school today and may return next Monday.”
Henry lowered his eyes. “Understood, sir.”
Ben remained silent.
“Mr. Hawthorne?” the principal asked.
“Understood.”
Principal Aldridge turned toward the adults. “You may take them home.”
Mrs. Bennett carefully adjusted Henry’s damaged collar without touching the marks on his neck. His father picked up his schoolbag and led the way toward the doors.
Henry took several steps before stopping.
He turned toward Ben.
Ben stood beside his father’s assistant with both hands at his sides.
Henry could have accused him. He could have repeated everything Ben had done in the classroom or blamed him for the punishment they now shared.
Instead, he looked at the boy who had been his closest friend for most of his life.
“Take care of your hand,” Henry said quietly. “Your knuckles are bleeding.”
Ben looked down.
A small cut crossed one finger where his hand had struck the edge of Henry’s metal badge.
Henry’s mother called him from the doorway.
He gave Ben one final look and followed his parents outside.
Anneliese walked beside them to the school steps.
“Will you be all right?” she asked Henry.
“Yes.”
“I’ll send you the classwork.”
Henry managed a tired smile. “Thank you.”
His mother opened the car door. Henry climbed inside, and his father placed the schoolbag in the front before joining them.
The car drove through the school gates.
A black Rolls-Royce arrived several minutes later.
The chauffeur stepped out and opened the rear door. Graham handed him the suspension documents.
“Take Mr. Hawthorne directly to the estate,” Graham instructed.
“Yes, sir.”
Ben walked toward the car without speaking.
He stopped briefly near the stone steps.
Anneliese stood beneath the school archway, holding the project folder against her chest. The faint red mark on her shoulder remained visible.
Neither spoke.
Ben entered the Rolls-Royce, and the chauffeur closed the door behind him.
The car pulled away from St. Gabriel and travelled in the opposite direction from the one carrying Henry.
By noon, both boys had been suspended for one week.
Henry returned home with his mother and father beside him.
Ben returned to Hawthorne House with a chauffeur and his father’s assistant.
And even after everything that had happened, Henry had left the school without saying a single word against his best friend.