Chapter 1

My five-year-old daughter burst into tears the moment she got home. She begged me not to make her go back to Oak Lane Academy.

She was too scared to tell me why. Just kept shaking and crying.

My gut told me something was wrong. When I checked her body, I found tiny puncture wounds all over her arms and chest.

Rage burning through me, I snapped a photo and posted it to the parents' group: "Who hurt my daughter?"

"My son did exactly what I told him to," Ashley replied instantly, with a smug emoji.

Then came two photos that stopped my heart.

One showed my husband at a wedding - with her.

The other was a family photo of me, my daughter, and my husband.

"Karma's a bitch, isn't it? That's what happens when you steal someone's husband and have his bastard. Consider yourself lucky my boy didn't do worse."

The group chat exploded. Parents I'd known for months turned vicious, attacking me and my daughter.

Even Mrs. Thompson, her teacher, jumped in: "Tyler was such a good boy today, Ashley! Extra star for him tomorrow!"

Ashley couldn't resist: "If you've got a problem, come face me. We're still at school. Unless you're scared..."

I strapped my daughter into the car and texted my lawyers:

"Get divorce papers ready. Use the prenup. I want Jack out with nothing."

"My daughter was attacked at school. Send a team now. They'll pay for this."

"Can't believe that leech had a mistress while living off my money."

At Oak Lane, I found Ashley surrounded by her new fan club.

"Ashley, you're so modest! We had no idea your husband runs Walker Corp!"

"No wonder you always seemed different. That's real class!"

"We're all behind you. Can't let gold-diggers like her win."

"Right? Tyler's the real heir to Walker Corp. Already showing leadership!"

Mrs. Thompson was practically bowing: "Just tell me Tyler's favorite foods. I'll change the menu for him."

Ashley soaked it all in.

The joke was on them. Jack had been draining money from my smallest company division for years. I'd only given him that job hoping he'd grow up.

Now Ashley was using it to play queen bee.

When they saw me, their friendly faces turned to stone. Like I was something they'd scraped off their shoes.

Mrs. Thompson stepped forward, ice in her voice: "Ms. Roberts, Emma is expelled. Effective immediately."

"My daughter gets attacked and you expel her?" I shot back.

"This is an elite school," she said coldly. "We can't have our reputation ruined by... certain people."

My voice went deadly quiet: "You might want to check who the real mistress is before you talk."

I didn't finish. Ashley's hand cracked across my face.

"How dare you show your face here? Did you think having his kid would make you the next Mrs. Walker?"

Chapter 2

The slap echoed through the courtyard.

My cheek stung, but the parents' jeers hurt worse.

"Playing innocent now? Maybe think twice before stealing someone's husband."

"Bet she's got a whole list of rich married men on speed dial."

"Women like her are the worst. And that poor kid's going to grow up just like mommy."

More parents gathered around, phones out, filming everything. Some even spat in my direction.

I took off my Burberry coat - worth more than their monthly mortgages - and dropped it in a nearby trash can.

Then I turned to Ashley.

"First you get your kid to attack my daughter. Now you're hitting me in public. Where do you get the nerve?"

Ashley tossed her hair back. "A wife has every right to slap her husband's mistress."

She smirked. "I'm married to Walker Corp's CEO. I could do way worse to you and that brat of yours, and no one would dare say a word."

The crowd ate it up.

"If you hadn't chased after her husband, none of this would've happened."

"You're just a homewrecker. Keep your head down and be grateful that's all you got."

"Yeah, drop the victim act. We see right through you."

Their words just made Ashley bolder.

She glared at my car. "Look at you, spending my husband's money! A Rolls-Royce? You're nothing but a gold-digger."

Her voice turned ugly. "I hate women like you. You all deserve to die!"

She pulled out her keys and scratched three words across my car:

"HOME WRECKERS DIE"

I stared at the jagged letters. "You'll regret those words soon enough."

That set her off.

"Living off my husband's money and acting all high and mighty?" She grabbed a brick from the garden. "Time to pay it all back!"

She smashed every inch of my car. Windows. Lights. Hood. Nothing escaped her rage.

The other parents joined in, grabbing whatever they could find. My hundred-thousand-dollar car turned to scrap metal in minutes.

After breaking the windows, they tore up the leather seats. Then someone popped the trunk.

"Holy shit! Look at all this stuff!"

Ashley pulled out a painting, sneering. "Playing art collector with my husband's money? Please."

She ripped it in half. "Trash like you deserves trash."

A bystander's eyes went wide. "Wait - that's a Morrison original! They sell for millions!"

Ashley just laughed. "So what? It's my husband's money anyway. I can destroy whatever I want."

I could barely contain my anger.

Jack hadn't contributed a dime. He'd been living off my family for years. When I finally gave him a chance to run part of Walker Corp, he nearly drove it into the ground.

I should've fired him years ago.

But these people thought he was some business genius. And Ashley was basking in their worship.

The parents kept destroying my things, ripping up million-dollar paintings like confetti.

I'd just bought them at auction that morning. Hadn't even gotten them home.

Watching these idiots, I pulled out my phone.

"Get here in five minutes. No excuses."

One of the moms snatched my phone and smashed it. "Calling your sugar daddy for help?"

"Probably has a whole lineup of rich men on call!"

They roared with laughter, thinking they were so clever.

I looked at my crushed phone and said quietly, "Keep laughing. You won't be for long."

They found that hilarious.

"A mistress trying to act tough?"

"Ashley's husband runs Walker Corp. You're nothing but an ant to squash."

The mockery grew louder. Some spat at me again.

Ashley dug her heel into my face, grinning. "Me? Regret anything? Never. Let's see you try to make me."

I turned to Mrs. Thompson. "You knew they were hurting my daughter, didn't you?"

She looked at me like I was dirt. "Yeah, so what?"

"Tyler did us all a favor. Taking out the trash isn't a crime."

Chapter 3

The parents erupted in cheers.

"Finally, a teacher who tells it like it is!"

"This is Oak Lane. We have standards."

"Why waste education on her kid? Just teach her to hunt rich men like mommy!"

Ashley was loving every second.

"This is what you get. Once trash, always trash. You and your brat belong in the gutter!"

Their insults rained down. The crowd grew, everyone eager to join the attack.

Each cruel word made Ashley's smile wider.

Mrs. Thompson saw her chance. "Mrs. Walker, the principal has a small favor to ask. We're expanding the school, and Walker Corp owns all the surrounding land..."

Ashley waved her hand dismissively. "Consider it done. Jack will sign it over. You've earned it today."

Mrs. Thompson beamed. "You're too kind, Mrs. Walker."

The parents pounced like sharks smelling blood.

"My firm has worked with Walker Corp before. Keep us in mind?"

"Our company's expanding too. We'd love to partner up."

"Here's my VIP shopping card. Let's stay in touch."

They shoved business cards and credit cards into her bag, desperate for her attention.

Ashley soaked it up like a queen holding court.

She towered over me, voice dripping venom. "See this? This is real power."

"You'll spend your life on your knees, begging for scraps. But me? I live in a world you can't even imagine."

"Take your bastard and get out of my city. Next time, I won't be so nice. I'll bury her alive."

Emma pressed against me, shaking. "Mommy..." Her voice cracked. "My ankle really hurts."

Something in her tone made my blood run cold. When I carefully pulled down her sock, time seemed to stop.

A deep, infected gash ran across her ankle. Someone had tied a wire around it, cutting deeper with every step she took.

Dark blood had soaked through her sock, staining her shoe. The skin around the wound was swollen and hot.

I stared at my little girl - the same child who needed three bedtime stories to sleep, who'd cry if her toast was cut wrong. She'd suffered through this all day without a word.

The world blurred as tears filled my eyes. Not sad tears. Tears of pure rage.

"Ashley." My voice didn't sound like my own. "Your son did this?"

She examined her manicure, bored. "Be thankful that's all he did."

The sound of my palm hitting her face echoed like a gunshot.

All my fury, every ounce of a mother's protective rage, went into that slap. Ashley spun, catching herself against the wall.

I pulled back for another hit, but someone grabbed my hair, yanking hard.

Parents swarmed me, fists and feet flying.

"How dare you touch Mrs. Walker!"

"Want to join your brat in the grave?"

"Trash raising trash. You both deserve worse!"

Even Mrs. Thompson joined in, kicking me.

"Leave my mommy alone!" my daughter screamed.

Tyler knocked her down with a kick.

Mrs. Thompson patted his head. "Good boy, Tyler. You'll get a special award tomorrow!"

He smirked. "Next time I'll hurt her even worse."

From the ground, through bloody lips, I spat: "You'll regret this."

They howled with laughter.

"A whore making threats?"

"Mrs. Walker could crush you like a bug!"

"Pathetic! Just kill yourself already!"

They pinned me down, spitting and laughing.

Ashley dug her stiletto into my cheek.

"Regret? Please. I'd love to see you try."

Right then, a fleet of black SUVs roared up to the school gates.

Men in suits poured out, moving with military precision...