The Legendary Papa System: My Daughter's Pride is My Power

Chapter 5: Phase One Cleanup

The London sky was still gray that morning when Rovan opened the apartment door.

Millie was already ready near the table. Her school uniform was neat, her black shoes shiny, and the blue ribbon in her hair was tied tightly. She chewed on her toast while swinging her legs in the air.

"Dad, you're a little late," she said.

Rovan tied his work shoes. "Not late. We still have time."

"I slept well last night. But I still remember that blonde lady." Millie swallowed her toast. "If she comes back today, I'll tell Miss Eleanor."

"No need. Leave adult matters to the adults."

Millie nodded, then stood up. "Will you walk me to the gate, Dad?"

"Of course."

They walked down the stairs together. The bus arrived right on time. On the way, Millie talked about her math lesson and a friend who was going to lend her colored pencils. Rovan listened, giving short answers, occasionally checking the phone in his pocket. There were no new messages from the system. Just the same balance and the neatly saved certificate.

At the gates of St. Jude's Prep, Millie hugged her father's waist for a moment. "See you this afternoon, Dad."

"See you this afternoon."

The girl ran inside. Rovan waited until her tiny back disappeared behind the main doors, then walked around to the side staff entrance. He entered the utility room, put on the same gray uniform as yesterday, grabbed his mop and bucket, and began working on the first-floor hallway as usual.

Inside his uniform pocket, his phone vibrated softly. Rovan waited until no one was around, then unlocked the screen. He typed out a few short command lines through the foundation account now linked directly to him. The order was sent on behalf of the board, without a personal sender's name. Two teachers' names appeared on the list. He hit send.

Not long after, hurried footsteps echoed from the direction of the teachers' office.

Miss Langley, the history teacher who often left trash in the classroom and demanded the cleaning staff pick it up in a condescending tone, was summoned to the Headmaster's office. Mr. Hargrove, the PE teacher who liked forcing janitors to clean the locker rooms after hours without extra pay, followed a few minutes later.

Rovan pushed his mop at the far end of the hallway, far enough to avoid being noticed, but close enough to hear the conversation leaking from the slightly open door.

Caldwell's voice sounded flat. "Miss Langley, the foundation has decided to terminate your contract effective today."

"What?" the woman's voice rose. "On what grounds?"

"On the grounds of performance evaluation and repeated reports regarding inappropriate treatment of non-teaching staff."

"This is impossible! I have been teaching here for eight years!"

"The decision is final. You are requested to clear out your locker within an hour."

The door opened. Miss Langley stepped out, her face red. She nearly bumped into Mr. Hargrove, who was just about to enter. "Were you called in too?" she asked sharply.

Hargrove frowned. "What's going on?"

"They fired me! Out of nowhere!"

Hargrove went inside. A few minutes later, he came out with an even darker expression. "This is crazy. They said I violated employment protocols. Who reported me?"

Langley glanced around the hallway. Her eyes swept past Rovan, who was wiping the handrail. She didn't pause. "It must be one of those low-level staff members. They're always complaining secretly."

"I'm going to contact the union," Hargrove said.

"The union won't dare go against the foundation," Langley replied bitterly. "We're done for."

They walked away, grumbling continuously. Rovan did not look up. He simply squeezed his mop and moved on to the next floor.

Meanwhile, in the administration room, office staff received a second command from the foundation system. Several official letters were printed. They were addressed to the parents who had been the most vocal in the hall yesterday.

Rovan was cleaning the glass near the lobby when he saw Victoria Ashford march in with quick steps. Her face was tense. In her hand was a white envelope bearing the school logo.

She stopped in front of the reception desk. "I just received this letter. What does it mean by 'child's status under review'?"

The receptionist, a young woman usually nervous around elite parents, answered in a cautious voice. "It is an official letter from the foundation, Mrs. Ashford. I was only instructed to inform you that there is a re-evaluation regarding the alignment of several students with the school's values."

"School values?" Victoria raised her voice. "My child has been here since reception! Who dares to review us?"

"I don't have further details. You can contact the Headmaster's office."

Victoria turned around and nearly collided with Mrs. Harrington, who had also just arrived holding the exact same envelope. "Did you get this too?" Victoria asked.

Mrs. Harrington gave a stiff nod. "Just now. They said there's a 'report of parental conduct not supportive of the learning environment.'"

"This is revenge," Victoria hissed. "It has to be connected to last night."

"But how? That janitor couldn't possibly have any influence."

"Who else could it be? The Headmaster suddenly bowed to him. There has to be something."

The two of them walked toward Caldwell's office. Rovan pushed his bucket in the opposite direction, keeping a good distance, but he could still watch them from the reflection in the glass.

Inside the office, Victoria's voice carried clearly despite the door being closed.

"Explain this letter, Caldwell!"

The Headmaster's voice remained calm. "The foundation issued an evaluation regarding several families deemed to be creating an unfavorable atmosphere. The decision comes from the top."

"And who is 'the top' now? That janitor?"

"I am not authorized to discuss the ownership structure with parents, Mrs. Ashford."

"You were deathly pale last night. You know something!"

"I am merely following instructions."

Mrs. Harrington chimed in. "Could our children be expelled?"

"At present, it is only a review. The outcome will be communicated in due course."

The door opened. Both women stormed out, their faces flushed. Victoria spotted Rovan at the end of the hallway. She paused for a moment as if wanting to say something, but reconsidered and left quickly.

Rovan went on with his work. He cleaned the staff restrooms, restocked paper towels, and emptied the trash. No one approached him. No one asked questions. His gray uniform was still dirty at the knees because he had intentionally knelt while scrubbing a stain on the hall floor earlier that morning.

At noon, in the cleaning staff break room, two of his coworkers talked over tea.

"Did you hear? Langley and Hargrove got fired," said an old man named George.

"So suddenly," replied a woman named Doris. "And after how they always treated us."

"Whoever did this, I'm grateful," George said. "Finally someone had the nerve."

Doris turned to Rovan, who was sitting in the corner filling out a cleaning log. "Do you know anything, Rovan? Last night was so weird."

Rovan shrugged. "I just mop."

"Of course," George said with a chuckle. "You always just mop."

They didn't pry any further. Rovan closed the logbook, stood up, and returned to the hallway.

In the afternoon, when the dismissal bell rang, he was already waiting at the side gate as usual. Millie emerged from among the crowd of children, backpack on her shoulders, her face bright.

"Dad!" she called out. "Today Miss Eleanor said two teachers were absent. Class was much quieter."

Rovan fixed his daughter's hair. "That's good, isn't it?"

"It's great. And that blonde lady wasn't at the gate either. Usually she waits around with a sour face."

"Maybe she was busy."

Millie grabbed his hand. "Dad, can we get ice cream on the way home? Just a little bit."

Rovan nodded. "Just a little bit."

They walked toward the bus stop. Behind them, the building of St. Jude's Prep stood grandly beneath the clouding sky. Inside, two teachers' desks were already cleared. Several official letters had reached the hands of the people who had shouted the loudest yesterday. And in the polished hallways, mop trails were still damp in a few corners.

Rovan did not look back. He simply held Millie's small hand tighter, felt the weight of the phone in his inner pocket, and made sure his steps remained the same as every afternoon before.

No one needed to know. Not yet.