The Identities

The man's sharp features radiated shrewdness and a hint of vulgar arrogance.

"Roger! My precious son! Who bullied you?!"

The moment he entered, he rushed to Roger's side, frantically checking him up and down as if his boy had just suffered some earth-shattering injustice.

Seeing his protector arrive, Roger immediately pointed at my brother and me, crying foul with exaggerated indignation. "Dad! It's them! Timothy tried to steal my exchange student spot, and his brother backed him up—he even said our Smith family doesn't play by the rules!"

The man's eyes widened at that, his voice booming with outrage. "Outrageous! In Ardenford, and someone dares to accuse the Smith family of being unfair?"

He looked me over from head to toe, his tone dripping with disdain. "It's your family's honor that my son has his sights on that spot.

"My son set his sights on that spot—that should be your family's honor! Do you even know who we are? The Smith is at the top of the pinnacle. As for you? Who are you to compete with us?"

He paused for effect, his voice rising with arrogant pride and intimidation. "Do you know who I am? I'm Christine Smith's husband. She's the chairperson of the Smith Group and the wealthiest woman in Ardenford! My son is the Smith family's only heir! If you dare bully my son, you're going up against the entire Smith Group! You'd better know your place!"

I thought, 'The husband of the richest woman in Ardenford?'

I stared at the unfamiliar face before me, the confusion in my chest deepening. I had never seen this man before.

My father, Elias Mace, was a former soldier—upright, steady, and disciplined. He despised pretentious displays and would never speak in such a crude, pompous tone.

Could it be… my mom really had a lover outside?

The thought sent a chill down my spine.

The man jabbed a finger at my brother, barking at Mr. Winters like he owned the place. "I'll make this clear right now! The exchange student spot belongs to my son, Roger! Anyone who disagrees is challenging the entire Smith family!"

He turned to us and ordered, "You two—apologize to me and my son immediately!"

Roger clung to his father's arm, his face gleaming with malicious delight. "Dad, an apology isn't enough. They were acting all high and mighty earlier—they should beg and apologize!"

The man patted his son's shoulder approvingly. "Roger's right. Beg and apologize. Otherwise, you'll never see the end of this today."

"In your dreams!" Timothy's whole body trembled with fury. He was quiet by nature, but beneath that calm exterior burned a stubborn streak that refused to bow.

"Oh? Still got some backbone, huh?" Roger snapped, enraged. He whipped out his phone and made another call. "Mom! Come to the school now! Dad and I are being bullied so badly! If you don't come, your husband and son will be stepped on!"

The call ended, and his face lit up with smug confidence, certain of his victory.

…

About ten minutes later, the office door slammed open.

When we saw who walked in, both my brother and I froze in shock.