Since I was running late to pick up my son, Kyrie Stone, from school, I did not have time to change out of my work clothes from the construction site inspection. Right at the preschool entrance, I ran into one of his classmates' parents.

The man, Adam O'Neil, looked me up and down and asked, "You're Kyrie Stone's father, right?"

I nodded politely, about to introduce myself. However, he suddenly scowled and snapped, "No wonder he acts so poorly behaved at school. The apple doesn't fall far from the tree!"

I frowned immediately. "What nonsense are you talking about?"

He scoffed, getting even more aggressive. "Nonsense? Kyrie shows up to school wearing weird clothes and brings all these ridiculous toys. It's distracting my daughter, Sarah, so much that her grades are slipping."

I was speechless, wondering how Sarah O'Neil's declining grades were Kyrie's fault.

When I stayed silent, Adam got even bolder. "Just look at those dusty clothes you're wearing. Do you even have the money to send Kyrie to an elite preschool like this, or are you just some laborer trying to keep up appearances?"

I thought Adam was insane. After all, Kyrie was attending our family-owned preschool.

How was that trying to keep up appearances?

I shot back, "Mr. Adam O'Neil, watch your mouth. Sarah's failing grades are her own problem, so stop blaming others for it. I suggest you take her to see a doctor and get her head checked."

I usually kept a low profile, but I was no pushover.

My response clearly caught Adam off guard. He pointed at me and shouted, "How dare you insult my precious daughter? Just look at yourself. You're dressed like some homeless bum. You're obviously just a construction worker!"

He added, "Kyrie is showing off at such a young age. If it's not to attract other girls, then what is it for?"

I was stunned speechless. These were just my outdoor work clothes for project inspections, yet to him, I suddenly looked like a homeless bum.

What made it worse was that several other parents nearby started chiming in to support him.

Someone said, "Mr. Stone, I'm not trying to be rude, but Kyrie's clothes are really too flashy…"

Another agreed, "Yeah, kids nowadays are so competitive. It really does set a bad example."

Seeing everyone siding with him, Adam grew even more smug. He looked me up and down with contempt and said, "You're always the one picking up your kid. Where's his mom? Are you actually one of those pretty boys kept by a rich woman?"

The moment he said that, the looks around us instantly changed. I could not help thinking they were just a bunch of pathetic mobs.

I said, "Are you people living in the Dark Ages? When your minds are dirty, everything you see looks dirty."

I grabbed Kyrie's hand and started to leave.

Adam suddenly yanked my arm and yelled, "Stop right there. You think you can just walk away after messing up Sarah's education? No way. If you don't give me a proper explanation, Kyrie is going to have hell to pay at this preschool!"

He threatened, "I'm telling you, Mr. Kenneth Griffin, the teacher here, is my friend and related to one of the shareholders. Getting you kicked out is as easy as snapping his fingers!"

I suddenly remembered how Kyrie had come home a few days ago, gloomy as he complained that the new male homeroom teacher did not like him.

I let out a cold laugh.

When did my preschool start hiring teachers through connections? I would have to look into this.

After all, a teacher with no professional ethics would only harm children and damage the preschool's reputation.

"Fine. I'd love to see how you plan to make my life miserable."

I shook off his hand and took Kyrie to the car.

Inside the car, Kyrie kept his head down. His eyes were red, yet he forced himself not to cry.

He asked, "Dad, did I do something wrong? Sarah said I'm a loser, and that I only wear suits to show off. But you bought me these clothes, Dad. I really like them."

Hearing those words come out of my five-year-old son's mouth felt like needles stabbing my heart.

I reassured him, "Kyrie, you didn't do anything wrong. Your clothes look sharp, and it's those nasty people who are in the wrong. Tomorrow, I'm going to put you in your most handsome custom-tailored suit."

After calming Kyrie down, I called my wife, Nadine Cooper. "Honey, today at the preschool—"

Nadine cut me off, clearly annoyed. "Elijah, for goodness' sake, give it a rest. I'm busting my ass for this family, so can you please not bother me with these trivial little things? I'm hanging up."

The line went dead with a beep.

I could faintly hear a man's voice in the background, and my gaze instantly turned cold.

This preschool was a property I had casually bought for Kyrie's convenience, registered under the corporation's name.

I was actually the only son of the Eyburgh Stone family, one of the most prominent families in the city.

Back then, my parents had looked down on Nadine's background. To spare her from being mistreated after marriage, I had given up inheriting the family business.

Using the first money from my college startup, I built my own company from scratch. Later, when my parents got older and saw that I could handle everything on my own, they handed the corporation back to me.

I never got the chance to tell Nadine about this. She still thought I was just an ordinary office worker.

I had planned to tell her on our fifth anniversary at the end of the year as a surprise. Coincidentally, her new company was part of my group, so I quietly promoted her to vice CEO.

However, it looked like the power had gone to her head, and she was bold enough to cheat on me.

The next day, I deliberately dressed Kyrie in a more understated suit. He even left his favorite figurine at home.

This time, I wanted to see what they could possibly find to complain about.

Right after I dropped him off and got to the office, the parent group chat exploded.

Adam posted a photo. In it, Kyrie was half-kneeling on the floor playing with a toy, while Sarah stood right in front of him.

Adam followed up with a barrage of voice messages.

"Everyone, take a look. Kyrie is acting like Sarah's dog again. He is just a boy with no backbone at all, kneeling the moment he sees a girl."

Several parents quickly chimed in below.

"Oh my. He is only five and already such a shameless suck-up. Did he learn this from his dad?"

Another laughed and said, "You had better watch what you say. What if his sugar mommy comes after you?"

"This kind of boy is going to grow up to be a freeloader for sure."

I was fuming and immediately sent a voice message in the group. "Mr. O'Neil, you secretly photographed Kyrie and publicly insulted a minor. I have already screenshotted this as evidence, so expect a letter from my lawyer."

That was when the homeroom teacher, Kenneth, spoke up in the group. His profile picture was a selfie showing off a Rolex watch.

I thought, 'Wait a second… That watch looks suspiciously like the one I could not find last month.'

Kenneth tagged me in the chat and wrote:

[Mr. Stone, please calm down. Mr. O'Neil only wants the best for the class. Where there is smoke, there is fire. If Kyrie kept a lower profile, people would not talk.

[As his teacher, I have to be frank with you. This is not the real world, and you cannot bring that kind of attitude into a school setting. Also, to avoid affecting the other students, please come to the school tomorrow. Kyrie is suspended for three days of reflection.]

I could not believe my eyes.

Was this really the kind of thing an educator should be saying?

"Where there is smoke, there is fire"? Since when did blaming the victim become the standard?

I fired back at Kenneth in the group without hesitation.

[Mr. Griffin, what right do you have to suspend Kyrie? Mr. O'Neil insulted Kyrie in the group, and as the homeroom teacher, you did not stop him but instead took his side.]

Kenneth quickly called me, his tone dripping with arrogance. "Mr. Stone, know your place and delete what you posted in the group. This is an elite preschool, not a place where new money like you can run wild. Let me be clear with you. My fiancée is a major shareholder of this preschool, so do not push me. I can make your son pay for this."

When he said that his fiancée was a major shareholder at the preschool, I was puzzled.

I suddenly remembered how Nadine had been coming home late and leaving early recently, always smelling of unfamiliar men's cologne. Moreover, there were those designer watches and suits that had mysteriously disappeared from our house.

An absurd suspicion began to form in my mind.

Just then, my phone rang, interrupting my thoughts. It was a call from Kyrie's smartwatch. However, the moment I answered, it was abruptly cut off.

Kyrie never hung up on me for no reason.

Thinking back to Kenneth's threats, my expression hardened. I rushed out of the office, jumped into my car, and sped toward the preschool.

When I reached the classroom door, I heard Kyrie's muffled sobbing.

I burst into the classroom, and the scene before me made my blood boil.

Kyrie stood on the platform, his once-sharp little suit cut to shreds and hanging off him like rags. His arms were covered in red scratches, all of them made by scissors. Not only that, even his backpack had been carelessly thrown onto the floor, covered in footprints.

Kenneth stood there, holding a pair of scissors in his hand, proudly addressing the entire class of children.

"Everyone look. This is what happens when you show off your wealth. Boys should be humble. Wearing these weird outfits just to get attention is tacky. From now on, nobody plays with Kyrie. Understand?"

The children in the audience did not really get it, but they followed along with the taunts anyway.

"Kyrie's a dork! Such a try-hard!"

Sarah sat in the front row, making faces at Kyrie. "Poor loser! Shame on you!"

Kyrie clenched his fists. Though scared, he stood as straight as he could, his eyes full of stubbornness and helplessness.

"Stop!" I let out a furious roar and rushed forward, shoving Kenneth aside.

Caught off guard, he stumbled backward and hit the blackboard. He shouted, "How dare you push me?! Security! Where the hell is security?"

I took off my jacket and wrapped it tightly around my trembling son. When I saw the bloody marks on his arms, my heart felt as though it was being torn apart.

"Dad, the clothes are ruined. Did I misbehave?" Kyrie leaned against me, his voice hoarse.

"Kyrie, you're the best. They're the mean ones. I'm going to get revenge for you right now!"

I turned around and stared at Kenneth as if I were ready to tear him apart. I growled, "What gave you the right to cut Kyrie's clothes, and what gave you the right to step all over his backpack? This is abuse, and it is a crime."

Kenneth adjusted his hair and looked at me with disdain. "I was just correcting his bad behavior. School rules say no flashy outfits. Since he wouldn't listen, I helped trim it down. As for the backpack, it was way too eye-catching. Is he trying to be a bad influence on the class?"

He mocked, "Besides, it's just some cheap clothes and a bag. How much could they cost? Worst case, I'll give you fifty bucks."

With that, he pulled a fifty-dollar bill from his bag and tossed it at my face as though he were dismissing a beggar.

"Take the money and get out with your show-off son!"

I was fuming. Still, seeing the other teachers gathering around us, I knew the advantage was not on my side. I had kept such a low profile that, aside from the preschool principal I worked with directly, nobody else knew my real identity.

It was obvious these people were all on Kenneth's side.

After taking several deep breaths, I suppressed my rage. "Kenneth, that suit you're wearing is an Armani spring limited edition, worth eighty-eight thousand dollars. The watch on your wrist is a Vacheron Constantin, worth two hundred thousand dollars. The shoes on your feet are a Berluti seasonal limited edition, worth fifty thousand dollars."

I stepped closer to him and asked, "You're a preschool teacher making eight thousand dollars a month. Where did you get the money to buy all this? Or maybe… these things were stolen in the first place?"

Kenneth's expression fell instantly, and he shouted, "These were gifts from my fiancée! She's a big-time executive!"

Just as he finished speaking, Adam burst in with a dozen other parents.

Adam pointed at me and yelled, "That's him! Mr. Griffin was kindly educating his son, and he dared to assault a teacher! Arrest him! This kind of savage doesn't deserve to be in our elite preschool!"

The crowd immediately surrounded Kyrie and me.