Don and Charles watched as Timothy and Mrs. Duarte vanished down a side corridor, the woman's heels clicking sharply against the floor in her haste.
Charles gave Don a firm pat on the shoulder with his good hand and started walking, leading the way toward a quieter section of the floor. "I don't think I've seen Timothy's mother that angry since you beat him up on campus."
He chuckled at the memory, the sound carrying genuine amusement as if the recollection still brought him a quiet satisfaction.
Don glanced back toward Miss Claire. To his surprise, she was watching him walk away—not staring openly, but with a subtle turn of her head, her expression composed as ever.
She shifted her attention back to her circle a moment later, her posture and tone unchanged, as though the entire confrontation had been nothing more than a brief ripple.
He did not linger. The last thing he wanted was to come across as her protector.
