That afternoon, I received a call from the kindergarten teacher. She said my three-year-old daughter, Margot Hathaway, had been bullied by a pair of twins in class.

When I rushed to the kindergarten, I found her in a pink princess dress, drenched in red paint, with a few faint red marks marring her skin.

The moment she saw me, the tears she had been holding back finally spilled over. “Mommy, they wanted to play a bad game with me. I didn’t want to, so they poured paint on me.”

I stormed into the principal’s office to demand an explanation, but she lowered her voice and warned me sharply.

“Those twins are the sons of the richest man in town! Ms. Hathaway, you really can’t afford to cross them. Just take your daughter and keep your distance.”

The phone I had instinctively raised to throw in anger paused mid-air.

But wasn’t I the wealthiest person in Jacksonville?

I called my husband, who was away on a business trip in Phoenix, and told him to come home right away.

But what I hadn’t expected was that the twins ran straight to my husband the moment they saw him. “Daddy! You’re finally here! Teach this bad woman a lesson!”

——

“Those twins are the sons of the richest man in town! Ms. Hathaway, you can’t afford to mess with them! Just take Margot and stay as far away as you can!”

I almost burst out laughing. Richest man in town?

When did Jacksonville’s wealth crown change hands?

Just because I’d hidden my assets after my parents died didn’t mean I’d disappeared.

I looked down at Margot trembling in my arms, and it felt like knives were carving into my heart.

“Principal, I believe you’re mistaken.”

I gently patted my daughter’s back, my voice calm—almost too calm. “The richest person in Jacksonville doesn’t have the last name Stewart.”

The principal paused, then gave me a look full of false sympathy.

“Ms. Hathaway, perhaps you don’t realize Ms. Stewart is currently the most powerful person in Jacksonville. Even this kindergarten has investments from her husband. You really can’t afford to offend her.”

“In any case, I suggest you transfer Margot to another school. It’ll be better for everyone.”

I lowered my head and gently kissed the crown of my daughter’s head.

“Margot, tell Mommy why those two children bullied you.”

Through trembling sobs, she whimpered, “Zion and Orion said they wanted to see what color my panties were. I wouldn’t let them, so they said I had to be punished.”

A three-year-old child, tied to a tree and splattered with paint, just for that?

And the principal still dared to ask me to let it go?

“I want to see their guardians,” I said coldly, eyes fixed on her. “Now. Immediately.”

The principal tried to stall, but I had already pulled out my phone and made the call.

“Secretary Harper, check the investors behind Jacksonville Kindergarten. I want a full list of shareholders and detailed info, within five minutes.”

After I ended the call, the principal’s expression shifted.

She clearly hadn’t expected an ordinary-looking mother to speak with such authority.

“Ms. Hathaway, what exactly are you trying to do?”

I offered a faint smile.

“Just because I don’t show off doesn’t mean I’ll allow myself to be walked over.”

Ten minutes later, I sat calmly on the sofa in her office, waiting.

My daughter had already been taken to the school clinic to get cleaned up.

My phone buzzed. Secretary Harper had sent a message.

A long block of text appeared, followed by a detailed background on the twins’ mother.

[Dakota Stewart, formerly a hostess at a private club. Began appearing in social circles three years ago after getting involved with a wealthy man. Rose quickly by relying on men. Holds no actual assets but publicly claims to be the ‘richest wife.’ The father's field on the twins’ school records is blank. Further investigation in progress.”

I narrowed my eyes.

Interesting. A woman who climbed her way up by clinging to men dares to call herself the richest wife?

Just then, the office door slammed open, and a heavy wave of perfume rushed in.

“Who wants to see me?”

I looked up to see a woman draped in luxury brands step into the office, her heels clicking against the floor.

Trailing behind her were the twin boys, their faces twisted into mocking grins.

“You’re Margot Hathaway’s mother?”

Dakota gave me a slow once-over, her eyes pausing on my simple dress and flat shoes.

A smirk curled at the corner of her lips.

“So you’re the one making demands?”

I rose to my feet and met her gaze without flinching. “Did you know your sons tied my daughter to a tree and poured paint on her?”

Dakota threw her head back and laughed, loud and theatrical.

“Kids will be kids. Is that really worth causing a scene over?”

She turned to the boys. “Babies, tell Mommy, why were you playing with that little girl?”

“Because she wouldn’t let us see her panties!”

“Mommy said all girls should listen to us! Why wouldn’t she let us?”

“That’s right!”

The other boy chimed in, his tone smug, “When we grow up, all the women in the world will be ours! What’s one little Margot? If she doesn’t listen next time, I’ll tie her to the tree again!”

What stunned me was that Dakota actually clapped and cheered at such a vile remark.

“Well said! You really are my sons!”

I clenched my fists, barely holding back my fury. “Dakota, is this how you raise your children?”

Her expression turned cold.

“Stop pretending to be some noble lady! I looked into you. Just an ordinary office worker with a husband who’s barely around. What are you putting on airs for?”

She yanked a thick stack of cash from her Hermès bag. “Isn’t this all about money?”

“This is for your daughter’s emotional damage.”

A wad of bills slapped against my face.

“Oh, and this is for when my son cut off a lock of her hair last week. Should be enough, even if we count by the strand.”

By now, several teachers had gathered outside the office. Some gasped. Others looked away in discomfort.

Dakota grew more and more excited.

“Last month, my son tore up her sketchbook. Here’s compensation. And the month before that, they dumped her lunch on the floor. Your precious daughter starved the whole afternoon.”

With every incident she listed, she threw out more cash, as if parading her twisted sense of justice.

But my heart ached.

So Margot had been bullied all along, and not a single teacher had said a word.

At last, Dakota flung her empty wallet onto the desk.

“Is that enough? If not, I’ve got cards too.”

She leaned in close, her voice low and sharp. “If you’re smart, you’ll take your daughter and disappear. Next time she crosses my sons, money won’t be enough.”

I bent down, gathering the scattered bills one by one, slowly, deliberately, with dignity.

Dakota mistook my silence for surrender. Her smile curled with satisfaction.

“Well, if that’s all, I’ll be going. I’ve got better things to do than waste my time on some country nobody likes you.”

“Stop.”

I reached out to block her path, my voice calm yet firm enough for everyone to hear. “This isn’t over.”

She turned back, amusement dancing in her eyes as if I’d just told a joke.

“What? Still not enough money for you?”

“Ms. Hathaway, take what you’ve got and walk away while you still can. I already looked into you, a single mom with an average job, raising a kid on your own. What are you pretending to be tough for? Keep pushing, and I’ll have your daughter expelled by tomorrow. Try me.”

As I stared at her smug face, it all began to feel absurd.

“Expelled?”

I echoed the word slowly, like I needed to be sure I’d heard her right.

“Yes. Expelled.”

She lifted her chin, eyes brimming with arrogance. "This kindergarten isn't just for anyone. Even with kids like yours enrolled, it still feels beneath me."

I curved my lips into a slow smile.

“Do you even know who owns this kindergarten?”

Dakota let out a scoff and spun in a small circle, arms wide.

“What? Don’t tell me it’s yours.”

Well, she actually guessed right.

There wasn’t a corner in Jacksonville that didn’t bear the mark of the Hathaway family.

Even if a coin fell from the sky, it landed stamped with our name.

Just then, Margot appeared and gently tugged the hem of my dress, her voice small and hesitant.

“Mommy, can we go home? Margot hurts.”

My chest tightened, the weight of it stealing the air from my lungs.

For a brief second, I questioned everything.

All I ever wanted was a quiet, peaceful life, far from chaos.

But maybe hiding away had only ended up hurting the one I loved most.

“Did you hear that? She said she’s hurting!”

One of the twin boys spat toward Margot. “Serves you right! Who told you not to let us see your panties?”

“Tomorrow we’ll lift your skirt again! We’ll record it and post it in the group chat!”

My head jerked up.

The two boys kept laughing, completely unbothered.

One of them even reached out, trying to tug at Margot’s skirt.

“Next time, we’ll strip you for real!”

“Yeah! Strip her!” the other chimed in.

“Mom says girls are born to be looked at by men! When we grow up, we’ll play with all the girls at school. You’ll be the first, Margot!”

The surrounding teachers gasped in shock.

But Dakota didn’t scold them; she simply covered her mouth and let out a soft laugh.

“Kids say the darndest things. They’re just curious, it’s harmless. Looking won’t kill her.”

I stared at her, my voice cold and deliberate.

“What did you just say?”

Dakota shrugged, completely unfazed.

“Oh, spare me the righteous act. What’s so special about a little brat’s body? Honestly, being noticed by my sons should be a privilege for people like you.”

At her words, I gave a small nod and walked straight toward the twins.

Only then did the people around us begin to sense that something was wrong.

A teacher stepped forward, trying to stop me. “Ms. Hathaway, please, calm down.”

I didn’t respond. I made my way to the older twin, the one who’d said he’d strip Margot, knelt down, and looked him directly in the eye.

“You really like looking at other people’s underwear?”

He lifted his chin with defiance. At nearly six, he already stood chest-high to me.

“None of your damn business!”

I gave him a calm, faint smile, then swiftly yanked open his coat. Two buttons popped off and scattered across the floor.

“Then why don’t you try it, see how it feels to be stripped?”

“What are you doing?!”

Dakota screamed and rushed over. “Let go of my son! Who the hell is your daughter? Just being looked at won’t kill her!”

“Mom! Mom! Help!”

The room instantly descended into chaos.

“Don’t act impulsively, Ms. Hathaway!”

The principal ran over, her face drained of color. “She’s someone we really can’t afford to offend!”

“Yes, yes!”

Several teachers joined in anxiously.

“Think of the child, just let it go!”

“If Dakota gets angry, we’ll all pay for it!”

Dakota barked, “Hold this lunatic down for me!”

Eight bodyguards stormed in from all sides.

“Ms. Hathaway…”

Teacher Russell’s voice shook. “They’ll really do it. Last week, a deliveryman stepped on her shoes by accident; he’s still in the ICU.”

But I couldn’t afford to be distracted.

The lead bodyguard raised his baton and swung it toward my head.

I sidestepped and moved without hesitation, one clean grappling twist, and the towering brute dropped like a sack of potatoes.