“It’s just some cheap domestic junk,” he snarled. “I’ll smash it however I want!”

The next second, he and several others yanked open the doors, climbed inside, and slashed at the leather seats and interior.

In moments, the once-pristine cabin was a wreck.

Yes, the car was American-made.

But it wasn’t junk—it was a Presidential Cadillac, a state-issued vehicle assigned to me by the Special Operations Command. It was more than a car; it was an emblem of honor.

Watching these maniacs desecrate it, I quietly pulled out my phone and called my commanding officer.

“Colonel, the official vehicle assigned to me has been vandalized.”

Before the voice on the other end could reply, one of the parents snatched my phone and smashed it to pieces on the pavement.

“Still trying to tattle? You’re nothing but a useless gigolo. What gives you the right?”

“Yeah, probably calling his sugar-mama sponsor to crush us. What a joke!”

“Man really thinks he’s somebody important.”

“Trash like you should’ve been thrown out with the garbage. Pretentious bastard.”

They burst out laughing, mocking me like hyenas.

I stared at the shattered phone and said coldly:

“I hope you’re still laughing in a few minutes.”

Then I turned to Ms. Carter.

“My son was bullied here. You knew about it, didn’t you?”

She glared with contempt.

“So what if I did? The rotten genes of a worthless freeloader produce nothing but garbage. Brandon was just taking out the trash.”

Applause broke out among the parents.

“No wonder you’re the teacher, Ms. Carter—so fair and sharp!”

“That’s right. This is an elite academy, not a dumping ground for strays.”

“Why does the son of a kept man even need school? Better you teach him how to serve rich women like his father. Maybe he’ll outdo you, latch onto someone even wealthier.”

Brandon’s Dad grew bolder, crowing:

“See? This is what happens to parasites like you. You and your bastard son will always be at the bottom, despised by everyone.”

The air filled with abuse. The louder they cursed me, the wider Brandon’s Dad’s grin stretched.

Ms. Carter seized the moment to flatter him further:

“Brandon’s Dad, the principal said if you’re satisfied with how we handle this, we hope you might help us. Crestwood is planning to expand, but all the surrounding land belongs to Stone Enterprises. If you could…”

He folded his arms, smug.

“Don’t worry. I’m pleased. When the time comes, one word from me and my wife will hand over the land.”

Her face lit up. “Thank you in advance!”

Other parents jumped in one after another:

“My wife’s company has worked with Stone Enterprises before. Could we get priority on contracts?”

“My firm’s pivoting industries—maybe we could cooperate with Stone Enterprises too?”

“Brandon’s Dad, here’s an unlimited shopping card to my mall. Please accept it. Hopefully our families can keep in closer touch.”

One after another, they scrambled to ingratiate themselves, even slipping bank cards into his bag.

Brandon’s father luxuriated in the moment, every inch of him radiating arrogance.

He lifted his chin and strode up to me, haughty: “Feel that? In this world, the gap between people is bigger than the gap between people and dogs!”

“A deadbeat freeloader like you will never be acceptable — you’ll spend your life groveling for a woman’s scraps, waiting for her to toss you a few crumbs.”

“As for me, the real husband, I enjoy honors you’ll never touch.”

“I’ll give you one day. Get your worthless son and get out of this city. If I ever see you pestering my wife again, I’ll bury that little bastard you spawned alive!”

At his words, my son trembled and crawled into my arms.

“Daddy, I’m so scared. My foot hurts so much…”

His voice was full of raw terror and pain.

I took off my son’s little leather boot and saw, to my horror, that one of his toes was missing.

The wound was grotesque. Blood pooled inside the boot.

My heart shot with pain; my eyes burned red.

I couldn’t imagine how my son — who’s always been so sensitive to pain — had endured this without making a sound until now.

I glared at Brandon’s father. “Your son did this?”

He glanced at me and said coldly, “What’s the fuss? I’d be doing you a favor if my boy had finished that little bastard off.”

“You monster!”

I instinctively raised my hand, intending to strike Brandon’s father hard.

In the end, though, my hand froze in midair.

My Commanding Officer had repeatedly warned me: it’s one thing to be ruthless with enemies, but if you unleash that on ordinary civilians the consequences can be fatal. Don’t act recklessly.

Seeing me hesitate, Brandon’s father sneered and shoved his face close to mine, taunting: “Go on — hit me. See if you’ve got the guts to hit the husband of New York’s richest!”

I ignored his provocation, knelt down, tore a corner from my own shirt, and silently wrapped my son’s injured toe.

“You coward!”

“You won’t hit me, but I’ll teach you a lesson!”

Brandon’s father shouted, turning to the other parents gathered there: “Teach this trash a lesson — whoever does it the best will become a long-term partner of the Stone family!”

On cue, the parents who’d already been hostile toward me surged forward, fists and boots flying. Some even whipped me with belts.

“Trying to mess with Brandon’s dad? He’s the husband of the richest woman — what right do you, a worthless freeloader, have?!”

“It’s just one toe. He didn’t kill the kid, so why are you acting like it’s the end of the world?”

“Being disciplined by Master Brandon is a blessing for that trash. With your lowborn genes, what could you possibly produce? If he dies under the beating, he deserves it.”

Even Ms. Carter kicked me disdainfully. To keep my son from more harm, I hugged him to my chest with all my strength.

“Don’t hit my daddy!” my son cried.

A chubby boy spat an insult at us: “Trash like you, poor and useless, deserve to be taught a lesson!”

Ms. Carter patted the chubby boy’s head and praised him with a smile: “Brandon has always stood up for justice — well done. I’ll praise you in front of the entire school tomorrow and give you an award!”

Brandon narrowed his eyes into a pleased slant: “Hmph. I’m just doing what I should. I’ll beat that little trash every time I see him!”