He jerked again, and Lance responded by moving the knife to the front of his throat. It was a letter opener, Ben realised, glancing down. Did it belong to Father Steiner, too? Was that what Lance had been looking for when he’d been searching Father Steiner’s desk? Maybe not for the letter opener specifically, but for something that could be used to bolster the evidence against him.

‘Keep him still!’ Callum barked, glowering at Lance, and then he fixed his glare on Ben. ‘We’re doing this because it’s right,’ he said. ‘And all good causes require sacrifice, Ben. My father taught me that, though I’m sure he never meant to. He’s never intentionally taught me anything – other than that his own good causes are more important to him than his only son. That a school is.’ Callum sneered and shook his head. ‘Do you know what my father told me before he sent me here? He said he knew I’d never live up to the Richardson name. That I’ve been a disappointment to him – a distraction – since the day I was born. He said he could only hope that his alma mater would teach me something about what it means to be a man.’

Callum smiled again, bitterly. ‘Well, it’s taught me plenty. More than my father could have imagined. He’s the one who still has something to learn. So I’m going to help him. I’m going to show him what happens when hypocrites and frauds get found out – starting with everyone connected to his precious school. Because, once we’re done, Beaconsfield’s reputation will be in ruins, and people will start to realise who my father really is. They’ll look more closely at all the places he sends his money, and they’ll see that they’re all as corrupt and hypocritical as he is; that everything about him is just a front.’

A fleck of spittle had caught on the corner of Callum’s mouth, and he wiped it away.

‘They call him a philanthropist,’ he scoffed. ‘They say he helps people. But the only person my father has ever cared about is himself.’

Ben was watching in horrified silence, any hope he’d had of reasoning with Callum ebbing away. He looked again at Melissa, who was watching Callum as intently as Ben had been, her expression caught somewhere between fear and despair. She didn’t want to be part of this. Ben knew she didn’t, not really.

‘Melissa,’ he begged. ‘Please. You don’t have to do what he says! We can just … we can forget any of this ever happened!’

‘Melissa will do as she’s told!’ Callum snapped. ‘And anyway, she feels exactly the same way I do.’