The slap came out of nowhere and left my head ringing.

The other parents closed in, pointing fingers, their mockery relentless.

"Look at you, all dolled up like some decent woman. Couldn't find anything better to do than spread your legs for a married man and pop out his kid?"

"It's always the ones who look innocent. Behind closed doors, she's probably in heat the second she smells money. Can't wait to throw herself at any rich man who walks by!"

"A homewrecker is a disgrace to all women. And a homewrecker's kid? Even worse. That brat deserves to suffer!"

Their accusations drew a crowd. Onlookers gathered, pointing and whispering.

Some pulled out their phones, snapping photos and recording video. Others spat on me.

I peeled off my coat, worth well over a million dollars, and dropped it into a nearby trash can.

Then I turned to face Jolene head-on.

"First you put your son up to torturing my daughter. Now you assault me in broad daylight. Who exactly gave you the nerve to act like you're above the law?"

Jolene lifted her chin, radiating self-righteous fury.

"A wife slapping the mistress? That's justice."

"Besides, I'm the wife of Goldcrest Group's CEO. Smacking around a filthy pair like you and your brat is nothing. I could end your lives and no one would bat an eye."

The other parents rallied behind her instantly.

"If you hadn't been sleeping with her husband, she wouldn't have had to hit you. You brought this on yourself."

"A cheap little homewrecker like you should be crawling on your hands and knees when you see the real wife. Instead you're standing here provoking her? One slap is letting you off easy."

"Exactly. Addicted to being a whore, aren't you? Playing the victim with that holier-than-thou look on your face. Who are you performing for? We're not the brain-dead men you seduce!"

Even the bystanders joined in, hurling insults.

Each one fouler than the last.

Jolene fed off every word, growing bolder by the second.

Her gaze drifted to the car behind me, and her eyes blazed. "You shameless tramp. Spending my husband's money without a shred of guilt? You're actually driving a Rolls-Royce? You think trash like you deserves to sit behind that wheel?"

"I despise homewreckers more than anything on this earth. Every last one of you deserves to rot!"

She yanked a key from her pocket and dragged it across the body of the car, gouging deep scratches that spelled out jagged words.

HOMEWRECKERS DESERVE TO DIE!

I glanced at the ugly letters carved into the paint, and my voice dropped to ice.

"You're going to realize very soon just how ironic those words are."

That sent Jolene over the edge.

"You worthless whore! You live off my husband's money and still have the audacity to act high and mighty? Today, you're going to cough up every last cent you've stolen from him!"

She snatched a brick from the curb and swung it into the car with everything she had.

Windows. Headlights. The hood. Nothing was spared.

The other parents caught her frenzy like a fever. They grabbed whatever they could find and threw themselves at the car, smashing it from every angle.

After the windows shattered, they climbed inside and slashed the seats and interior to ribbons.

In minutes, the pristine luxury vehicle was reduced to a heap of scrap metal.

Then one of the women pried open the trunk and let out a shriek.

"Get over here! She's got all kinds of goodies stashed back here!"

Jolene strode over and pulled out a scroll painting, lip curling with contempt.

"A cheap tramp who sells her body for a living, playing art collector? Pretending to have class?"

"Having a piece like this in the hands of someone like you is an insult to the artist."

"Garbage like you only deserves garbage!"

She ripped the painting apart right in front of me.

Then she threw the shreds on the ground and stomped on them, grinding them under her heel.

A man in the crowd who clearly knew something about art leaned in for a closer look at the remnants and gasped.

"That painting looked like an authentic Tang Yin. I heard the opening bid at auction was three hundred million dollars!"

Jolene didn't flinch. "Three hundred million? So what? It's all my husband's money anyway."

"My husband's money is my money. I'm destroying my own property. What's the problem?"

I was so furious I almost couldn't speak.

Setting aside the fact that Zachary was nothing more than a penniless live-in husband, even after I'd handed him Goldcrest Group to manage, his incompetence had tanked the company's market value by nearly half.

If he weren't my husband, I would have fired him a long time ago.

But Jolene and every parent standing here treated him like some all-powerful CEO.

They practically worshipped the ground he walked on.

With Jolene leading the charge, the other parents weren't about to be outdone. They tore into the rest of my collection in the trunk, ripping and smashing with abandon.

Every piece had been acquired at auction earlier that day, at enormous cost. I hadn't even had time to store them properly before these women destroyed them all.

I watched the pack of lunatics and quietly pulled out my phone.

"Why aren't you here yet? You have five minutes. I want you in front of me."

Before the other end could respond, one of the parents lunged forward and snatched the phone from my hand, hurling it to the pavement.

"Calling for backup? A gutter-trash mistress like you, where do you get the nerve?"

"Acting like you're somebody important. Who do you think you are?"

"She's probably calling one of her clients to come put on a show for us. Ha!"

The parents erupted in vicious laughter, mocking me without restraint.

I stared at the phone shattered to pieces on the ground. My voice was cold and even.

"I hope you're all still laughing this hard in a few minutes."

I turned to Vera.

"My daughter was being bullied at this school. You knew about it, didn't you?"

The teacher glared at me with open disgust. "So what if I did?"

"An illegitimate brat born to some lowlife mistress is nothing but society's garbage."

"Murray was just taking out the trash. What's the problem with that?"

The parents erupted into applause at those words.

"That's our teacher for you! Fair, decisive, and straight to the point!"

"Exactly. This is an elite academy, not some shelter for every stray off the street."

"Does a mistress's daughter even need an education? Just teach her how to seduce men from a young age. That's how you make a living, isn't it? Who knows, maybe your daughter will surpass the master and land herself an even richer sugar daddy!"

Jolene grew even more brazen.

"See? This is what happens to homewreckers. A worthless mother and her worthless daughter, destined to spend your whole lives at the bottom of the gutter, hated by everyone!"

Insults rained down on me from every direction. The crowd of onlookers joined in, hurling abuse and humiliation without restraint.

The louder they cursed, the wider Jolene's smile stretched across her face.

Vera seized the moment to sidle up to her. "Mrs. Simmons, our principal mentioned that if this matter is resolved to your satisfaction, he was hoping you might be willing to do us a small favor."

"As you know, our preschool is looking to expand, but all the surrounding land belongs to Goldcrest Group. If you could perhaps..."

Jolene folded her arms across her chest, her chin lifted high. "Relax. I'm very pleased with how you've all handled things today. When the time comes, one word from me and my husband will hand over every parcel of land around here."

Vera's face split into a grin so wide it looked painful. "Thank you so much, Mrs. Simmons!"

"Mrs. Simmons, my husband has worked with Goldcrest Group before. Any future contracts, could you maybe put our company at the top of the list?"

"My firm is pivoting into a new industry. I'd love the chance to partner with Goldcrest Group down the road."

"Mrs. Simmons, here, this is an unlimited shopping card for our department store. Please take it. I just hope our families can stay close..."

Within seconds, the parents were falling over themselves, pulling out every trick they had, crowding around Jolene with flattery and gifts. Some didn't even bother with subtlety. They pulled out bank cards and stuffed them directly into her handbag.

Jolene basked in every second of it, radiating smugness from head to toe.

She lifted her chin and sauntered over to me, looking down with naked contempt. "See that? That's the power of money and status."

"A cheap little side piece like you will never amount to anything more than spreading your legs and waiting for a man to toss you scraps."

"Meanwhile, I'm the wife. I enjoy a kind of glory you couldn't touch in a thousand lifetimes."

"You have one day. Take your bastard daughter and get out of this city. If I ever catch you sniffing around my husband again, I'll bury that little brat of yours alive."

Effie trembled violently and burrowed into my arms.

"Mommy, I'm scared. My foot hurts so bad..."

Her voice was threaded with raw terror and pain.

I pulled off her little leather boot and looked down.

One of her toes was missing.

The wound was ghastly, raw and open. When I tipped the boot, blood poured out.

Agony ripped through my chest. My vision blurred red, and tears streamed down my face in an unbroken flood.

I couldn't bear to imagine how my daughter, who had always been so delicate, so afraid of even the smallest scrape, had endured this kind of pain in silence all this time without making a single sound.

I whipped my head toward Jolene, eyes burning.

"Your son did this too?"

Jolene glanced at me with a bored expression. "What's the big deal? Be grateful I didn't tell him to kill the little brat outright."

Before the last word left her mouth, my hand connected with her face.

The slap carried every ounce of fury in my body. I put everything I had behind it.

Jolene staggered backward, nearly losing her footing.

I was about to go at her again when one of the parents grabbed a fistful of my hair and yanked me back. The rest swarmed me like a pack, punching and kicking from every angle.

"You filthy tramp! You dare lay a hand on Mrs. Simmons? You must have a death wish!"

"Seriously, your little brat isn't even dead yet. What's the rush to join her?"

"Getting disciplined by young Murray is a privilege for a piece of trash like that. Look at you. What kind of mother could you possibly be? Even if she were beaten to death, she'd deserve it!"

Even Vera charged in and landed a kick against my ribs.

"Don't hurt my mommy!"

Effie sobbed, trying to shield me.

A pudgy boy kicked her square in the chest. She crumpled to the ground.

Vera saw it happen, walked over, and patted the boy on the head with a warm smile. "Murray has had a strong sense of justice since he was little. What a fine young man! Tomorrow I'm going to praise you in front of the entire school and give you an award!"

Murray's eyes crinkled into a satisfied squint. "Hmph, it's my duty. I'm going to beat that little brat every time I see her!"

I lay pinned against the ground, shaking with rage so violent it rattled my teeth. I forced the words out through a clenched jaw.

"You're all going to regret this."

Silence. Then the crowd burst into laughter, heads thrown back, as if they'd just heard the funniest joke of their lives.

"Did I hear that right? A pathetic mistress, making threats?"

"Please! This woman actually thinks she's somebody? Mrs. Simmons is the wife of Goldcrest Group's CEO. Crushing her would be like stepping on an ant."

"She can't do a thing to any of us, so all she's got left is impotent rage. Pathetic!"

"If I were her, I would've bashed my head against a wall and ended it already."

The parents pinned me flat against the pavement, taunting and degrading me without a shred of restraint. The bystanders piled on, spitting on me one after another.

Surrounded by her adoring mob, Jolene stepped forward and pressed the needle-thin heel of her stiletto into my cheek, grinding down hard.

"Regret?" She laughed, high and shrill. "I've never regretted a single thing in my entire life. Go ahead. I'm dying to see how a worthless tramp like you is going to make me."

The words had barely left her lips when a fleet of luxury cars came tearing down the road and screeched to a halt at the school gates.

One by one, men in tailored suits threw open their doors and sprinted toward us.