“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.

One after another, all seven or eight bodyguards crumpled, completely powerless against me.

The crowd began to stir.

By the time I had the last one pinned to the floor, his arm twisted firmly behind his back, the twins finally panicked.

“Let me go, you old witch!”

The older one thrashed wildly. “My dad’s gonna kill your whole family when he gets here!”

The younger screamed, “Poor people should be our dogs! Don’t you dare touch me!”

I let out a soft, mocking laugh.

“Then let everyone take a good look at what exactly makes the so-called richest family’s children so different from us poor folks?”

Ten seconds later, the two boys stood before the crowd in nothing but their cartoon underwear.

The spectators buzzed with whispers, many failing to hide their glee.

I dusted off my hands and looked toward Dakota, mimicking her usual cold tone.

“So? How much compensation do you want?”

Dakota trembled with rage, a few strands of her perfectly curled hair now hanging loose.

She pointed at me, her fingertip trembling. “Y-you’re insane?! You dared lay a hand on my sons? Do you even know who I am? With a single call, I can make sure you and your daughter won’t survive in Jacksonville!”

“I know.”

I spoke slowly. “A woman who clawed her way up by crawling into a man’s bed, Dakota Stewart, right?”

Her face flushed a furious red. “You filthy, do you believe I won’t rip that mouth of yours apart?! Do you even have the means to pay for what you’ve done?”

“My sons’ uniforms are custom-made from imported fabric!”

I stayed calm. “So what?”

Dakota’s expression twisted, growing uglier with every breath.

“Honey!”

She pulled out her phone and made a call, slamming it on speaker.

“Send me money now! Someone bullied our sons, tied them to a tree! Now she’s throwing money at me to mock me. I want her to pay for this!”

There was a pause on the line, then came a deep male voice.

“Wait.”

Just one word, and my hand curled into a fist.

That voice was far too familiar.

But I shoved the thought away. Paul Chalamet would never betray me.

“Principal, could you please bring the brown bag from the back seat of my car?”

The principal froze for a moment, then broke into a jog toward the parking lot.

Three minutes later, she returned, panting, with the brown bag, its surface covered in my daughter’s cartoon stickers.

I unzipped it, pulled out three bundles of neatly stacked cash, and tossed them at Dakota’s feet.

“Your sons, this is probably what they’re worth, right?”

Applause erupted around us.

“Well done!”

A parent couldn’t hold back.

“My daughter had her face scribbled on with markers by those two. It still won’t wash off!”

“And my son!”

A father stood, his voice tight with emotion. “They made him eat chalk dust. Said our family’s so poor, we should get used to garbage!”

“My son fractured a bone, pushed down the stairs! All because he didn’t give up his seat fast enough!”

Another dad held up his phone.

“I’ve got every bit of it recorded!”

Under the rising storm of voices, Dakota began to step back.

“Everyone…”

I stepped onto the flower bed, my voice cutting through the noise.

“Today, I’m not speaking as the mother of a victim.”

“If a three-year-old girl can be punished simply for rejecting harassment and we all stay silent…”

I pointed directly at the twins. “Then tomorrow, it could be any of your children tied to that tree.”

The crowd erupted.

“Well said!”

“Someone should’ve taught them a lesson long ago!”

Fuming, Dakota screamed from where she stood. “I’ll have every one of you blacklisted!”