The crowd kept growing, every last one of them gawking and whispering about me.

The fat-faced thug's insults grew louder, more vicious, flecks of his spit landing on my face.

"Didn't Reginald used to chase after you? Treated you like a princess, put you on a pedestal? So what happened? He got tired of you already?"

"Bet he slept with you once and realized a woman who's already popped out a kid can't compete with a tight young thing, huh?"

"Who knows, maybe the real reason you divorced your ex-husband is because you were sleeping around. That brat of yours is probably some other man's bastard!"

Every word filthier than the last.

A ringing filled my ears. Everything went red.

By the time I came back to myself, the spatula had already swung in a full arc and cracked across his mouth.

Once.

Twice.

A patrol officer rushed over and pulled me off him, hauling both of us down to the station.

The thug's lips were split and swollen, blood running down his chin. Two of his front teeth were gone.

The female officer handling my statement was sympathetic, but she could only do her job.

"Ms. Walker, the other party's injuries have been classified as minor assault, and he's refusing to sign a settlement agreement."

"You're looking at five days of detention and a five-hundred-dollar fine."

Five days?

But Moira's school sports day was in three days.

She already didn't have a father by her side. I couldn't be absent too.

I drew a deep breath and started dialing the number I once knew by heart.

The door swung open before the call connected.

I hung up. Reginald hurried in.

When he saw me sitting on the bench in one piece, the tension drained from his shoulders.

"I'll post her bail. I'm covering the deposit."

Outside the station, I thanked him properly.

"Thank you. I'll transfer the deposit back to you as soon as I get home."

Reginald looked at me, speechless for a moment, a flicker of disappointment crossing his face.

"Your arm needs to be treated too. Let me take you to the hospital first."

The words had barely left his mouth when his phone rang.

Fiona's voice came through, teary and sweet, dripping with helplessness.

"Reggie, my little nephew got bullied at school."

"His parents are out of town on business. Can you come stand up for us? Please?"

Just like that, Reginald forgot about me and my blood-soaked arm. He jumped in his car and sped off.

The exhaust fumes hit me so hard I couldn't stop coughing.

I pulled my gaze back in silence, figuring I'd find a pharmacy for some burn cream and bandages.

My phone rang.

The teacher's voice on the other end was stern.

"Is this Moira Walker's parent?"

"Moira's been involved in an incident at school. We need you to come in."

I didn't even have time to treat my wound. I rushed straight to the school.

When I pushed open the office door, my daughter was standing alone in the corner.

Across from her, a little boy was being cradled like a treasure, shielded on all sides.

He poked his head out and spat at my daughter, pulling a face.

"Nyeh nyeh nyeh, you don't have a daddy! You're a bastard!"

"Your mom's a used-up tramp nobody wants, and when you grow up, you'll be a little tramp too!"

The air left my lungs. I pulled Moira into my arms and pressed my hands over her ears.

I was about to ask what kind of parents raised a child to talk like that.

Then I looked up and met Reginald's eyes.

The expression on his face was complicated.

That was when I saw clearly who was shielding that little boy.

It wasn't strangers.

It was Reginald and Fiona.

Fiona pulled the boy closer, her voice trembling with practiced grievance.

"Hailey, if you resent me for accidentally calling you 'ma'am' that one time, or for stealing Reggie away from you, I'll apologize. Go ahead, hit me, yell at me, I can take it."

"But if you're angry, come at me. How could you put your own daughter up to attacking my nephew?"

The resolve in my daughter's expression wavered.

She trembled in my arms, her small fingers clutching the front of my shirt as she looked toward Reginald.

"Uncle Reggie, do you think it's my fault too?"

Reginald was quiet for a moment, then sighed.

"No matter what happened, hitting someone is still wrong."

"You heard him, Moira. Now hurry up and apologize to Tyler."

"Why should she apologize?"

I pulled my daughter closer, firing back immediately.

"Wasn't he the one who started it by calling her names?"

"Calling her a bastard and her mother trash — he deserved to get hit!"

At that, Fiona pinched the little boy hard.

Tyler burst into wailing sobs, and Fiona's own eyes reddened on cue.

"Tyler's parents are overseas all year round. I've been the one raising him since he was little. Even a scraped knee breaks my heart."

She pulled up the boy's sleeve, shoving a ghastly purple bruise right under Reginald's nose.

"Now he's been beaten like this, and I can't even get a basic apology for him. How can I face him when he calls me Auntie?"

Reginald didn't hesitate any longer. He turned to the teacher.

"If Moira refuses to apologize, we're requesting that this be handled formally."

"If a student can assault another child and face zero consequences, every other kid in this school will think that's acceptable."

I stared at him in disbelief. "Are you threatening me?"

Reginald couldn't meet my eyes. His voice softened.

"Hailey, you were nearly detained today for hitting someone. Do you really want Moira following in those footsteps?"

"It's just an apology. I promise no one will say those things to her again."

Moira lifted her head from my arms. Her voice was small, but every word was clear.

"Mommy, if I say sorry, will they stop making things hard for you?"

My eyes burned. I swallowed the ache in my throat and stroked her hair.

"You don't need to apologize. You didn't do anything wrong."

"Go wait for me outside, okay? Mommy will come get you soon."

I walked her to the door and closed it behind her.

She must have sensed what I was about to do. Her fists pounded against the door, and she started crying, calling for me.

The bridge of my nose stung. My throat clenched so tight it hurt.

I was stubborn by nature. Proud my whole life. I had never once bowed my head or backed down.

When my parents tried to guilt me with everything they'd done for me, demanding I drop out of school and marry some middle-aged bachelor back home, I stole my own ID and birth certificate and cut them off for good.

When Alvin used the threat of leaving me with nothing to keep me in line, expecting me to swallow his affair in silence, I filed for divorce on the spot and fought tooth and nail to win custody of my daughter.

But now, under Fiona's gaze — the triumph she could barely contain —

I bent. Inch by inch.

My eyes throbbed with pressure. I ground every last shred of humiliation and fury between my teeth and swallowed it whole.

Just as I was about to force that apology through my clenched jaw —

A voice came from behind me. Familiar. Cold as steel.

"She doesn't need to apologize."

Alvin James stood in the doorway, tailored suit sharp against the cramped little office like he'd walked in from another world entirely.

He led Moira inside by the hand. He didn't spare a single glance at Fiona, whose eyes had already lit up at the sight of him.

His gaze landed on me, steady and burning, and he said it again.

"My wife doesn't owe anyone an apology."

Fiona's face twisted for a split second, the mask nearly cracking as a scream clawed its way up her throat.

Her eyes fixed on me, venomous. "She's your ex-wife. Is she really worth all this?"

"Moira refused to apologize. As her mother, shouldn't she take responsibility and apologize on Moira's behalf?"

"Her daughter hit my nephew — it's all on the security cameras!"

Alvin looked at Fiona as though he'd only just noticed she was in the room.

Even though he and Fiona had once been intimate, he looked at her now like she was a stranger.

His voice was ice. "Since you brought it up, let's check the footage."

"Pull up everything. Let's see who started it and where those bruises really came from."

With Alvin's word, the security recordings from both the classroom and the office were retrieved in under ten minutes.

The footage was crystal clear. Fiona's nephew shoved Moira first.

Moira hit the wall and stayed there, head down, silent.

She didn't react until the boy's eyes darted sideways and he brought me into it.

"Is it because you're not really his kid? Is that why your dad dumped you?"

"Your mom's just used goods nobody wants! And she had you, you little bastard!"

Only then did Moira snap her head up, something inside her breaking loose.

She lunged at the boy and tackled him to the ground.

But before she could do anything else, the teacher rushed over and pulled them apart.

When Alvin's assistant moved to play the office footage next, Fiona's composure cracked. She grabbed the reluctant boy by the arm and dragged him in front of Moira.

Her apology dripped with rehearsed sincerity. "I'm so sorry, sweetie. I was wrong to blame you."

"I'll have Tyler apologize right now. You're such a kind, generous girl—you'll forgive us, won't you?"

Guilt-tripping a child. Alvin's expression turned even colder.

He gave his assistant a nod. The footage kept playing.

It captured everything in sharp detail: Fiona deliberately pinching bruises into the boy's arm, fabricating evidence to frame Moira.

Every pair of eyes in the room turned on her. The looks were no longer sympathetic.

Fiona opened her mouth to explain, but the assistant cut her off without missing a beat.

"The harm you've caused Miss Walker and Mrs. James cannot be resolved with a flimsy apology."

"Please come with me. Our legal team will discuss the matter of compensation with you in detail."

The truth was out. The people who had been tormenting us minutes ago were escorted from the room.

Moira finally broke. She wrenched free of Alvin's hand and threw herself into my arms, sobbing so hard her whole body shook.

"Mommy, I'm sorry, I'm sorry..."

"Mommy, don't apologize for me, please—I'm sorry, Mommy..."

My nose burned. I held her tight, as tight as I could.

"It's not your fault. I'm the one who didn't realize you were miserable at this school."

"I'm the one who couldn't protect you. I should be apologizing to you."

After the divorce from Alvin, I lost the designer bags, the jewelry, all of it. Moving out of the mansion and into a tiny rental with Moira never bothered me.

But her school was different. Her school was the reason I dragged myself out of bed before dawn every single day to sell breakfast burritos until my hands cracked. Every dollar went toward keeping her enrolled.

I wanted her to have the best education money could buy.

What I forgot was that even the best school is still a miniature society.

Teachers and students alike adjust their treatment based on who your parents are.

When I was Mrs. James, Moira was the little princess everyone fawned over.

The moment I left the marriage with nothing and became a street vendor, her standing collapsed overnight.

The same teacher who had stood by while Moira was bullied was now drenched in cold sweat. He bowed and apologized, over and over.

Neither Moira nor I acknowledged him.

My mind was already working through the logistics of transferring her to a new school.

Alvin finally spoke. "Hailey. We need to talk."

I was quiet for a moment, then nodded.

I was about to follow him out when someone grabbed my sleeve and held on tight.

"Hailey, where are you going with him?"