Chapter 2

When I rushed to the hospital, my legs were so weak I could barely stand.

My son Lincoln lay in the hospital bed, his right leg wrapped in thick plaster, elevated high.

That face that always wore a sunny smile was now pale as paper, his lips cracked and dry.

The doctor held up the X-ray, his tone grave.

"It's a comminuted fracture. We've performed surgery, but the bone was shattered quite severely."

"The recovery will be very long, and it may affect his height development."

After staying with my son all night, the next morning I received a call from the school principal.

On the phone, his tone was formal, saying that the offending student's parents were willing to "negotiate amicably" with me.

I rushed to the principal's office.

A woman in a Chanel suit, wearing a diamond ring the size of a pigeon egg, was impatiently scrolling through her phone.

She was Zachary's mother, Quinn Williams.

The principal was serving her tea and water.

When she saw me enter, Quinn barely lifted her eyelids, the contempt in her eyes unconcealed.

"You must be Lincoln's mother. Sit."

She pushed a document in front of me.

"This is a settlement agreement. Sign it."

"We'll cover all medical expenses, plus an additional three hundred thousand in compensation."

"Don't waste my son's time. He has an equestrian lesson this afternoon."

Her tone was like she was giving alms to a street beggar.

My mind exploded. The image of my son lying in the hospital bed moaning in pain overlapped with her arrogant face.

I grabbed that agreement, tore it to shreds, and threw it hard in her face.

"In your dreams!"

The mockery on Quinn's face grew thicker.

"Three hundred thousand—for ordinary families like yours, that would take years of saving every penny, wouldn't it?"

"Your son just has a broken leg. It's not like he died. People need to know when they're well off."

The principal rushed over to mediate. "Mrs. Lincoln, please calm down. Mrs. Williams is being very sincere."

Sincere?

I was shaking with rage.

"My son was beaten by your son and had his leg broken. The school doesn't punish him, but instead gives my son a disciplinary mark. This is your sincerity?"

Quinn calmly smoothed the wrinkles on her clothes and smiled.

"The disciplinary action—I told him to give it."

"Who told your son to be so blind and spill Coke on my son's new shoes?"

"Those shoes are globally limited edition, worth three hundred thousand! You couldn't afford them even if you sold your son!"

"The fact that I'm not having him expelled shows how charitable our family is!"

The principal nodded and bowed beside her. "Mrs. Williams is absolutely right. Rest assured, we will definitely handle Lincoln's case seriously."

I looked at their vile faces singing in harmony, my anger nearly consuming me.

Quinn took out her phone from her Hermès bag, contemptuously pulled up a photo, and shoved it in my face.

"Look closely. This is Commissioner Williams from the State Education Committee. My uncle."

"You think you can fight me? Are you even worthy?"

In the photo, that so-called Commissioner Williams was bowing respectfully to a tall figure, his posture humble.

That figure—I knew it all too well.

It was my husband, Hudson.

I took out my phone and, right in front of them, called Hudson.

When the call connected, my voice was ice cold.

"Honey, that Commissioner Williams in your committee—his niece just broke our son's leg."