My mom once dumped the richest man in our city. Eight years later, I beat up the billionaire's son, and my teacher forced my mom to kneel and beg for mercy. The billionaire pushed open the door: "I used to treat you like a princess, terrified of you getting hurt. And you're f***ing kneeling to someone?" "Chloe, whose face are you disgracing right now?" 01 I never had a dad, and I'd never met any relatives. It was always just my mom and me. She worked the night shift at a convenience store and often came home very late. So she asked our neighbor, Mrs. Miller, to set an extra plate for me when she cooked dinner for her granddaughter. Of course, it wasn't a free meal. My mom paid Mrs. Miller every month. But Mrs. Miller would take that money, turn around, and buy me milk and fruit. She often sighed about how hard my mom worked and told me not to tell her. I nodded, and she praised me for being such a good girl. Honestly, I just felt that if I was a little better behaved, my mom's life would be a little easier. At school, I was the most invisible student in the class. I paid attention in class, but I never stood out. My classmates sometimes called me a "little mute" because they thought I didn't like talking. Actually, I just liked eavesdropping on their conversations. The most common topic for third graders was their families. Some kids would even tell everyone about their dad's hemorrhoids or their mom fighting off mistresses. There was a boy in my class named Leo Vance. He was a new transfer student, and he was always complaining about his CEO dad. He said his dad had a temper like a rabid dog and a face as cold as a widower. He said his dad had no time for him, and usually, it was just the driver and the nanny at home. He said his dad only cared about money, and for his birthday, he just had his secretary pass along a black Amex card. ... In short, he didn't like his dad. But I envied him for having one. I don't know why, but out of all the kids in class, I wanted to be close to Leo the most. Because I didn't have a dad, and rumor had it, Leo didn't have a mom. In a way, we were the same. While walking in line after school, Leo was complaining about how bad his dad's cooking was. I couldn't help but chime in: "The desserts my mom makes are really delicious." I thought if he just said one thing back, I could bring him some of my mom's desserts. But Leo turned his head and glared at me fiercely: "What's that supposed to mean?" I looked at him in confusion. "You're mocking me for not having a mom, right?" Leo shoved me hard, his face full of hostility. I fell to the ground. While I was still in a daze, our homeroom teacher, Ms. Evans, yelled from behind: "Audrey! Are you blind? You're ruining the line's discipline. Get up right now!" I had no choice but to slowly climb up and dust off my clothes. Ever since I spoke to Leo after school, I inexplicably became a thorn in his and his followers' sides. Every time he walked past my desk, he would pinch my arm through my clothes. If we met face-to-face, he would slam his shoulder into mine. Not to mention, he was always surrounded by a group of lackeys. Every time I walked by, they would yell out of nowhere: "Audrey, the little mute. So embarrassing," and make weird noises at me. I mustered up the courage to tell a teacher. But when I went to Ms. Evans's office, she was sitting cross-legged, holding her phone, talking to someone. She kept saying "Mr. Vance," smiling from ear to ear. I stood at the door for ten minutes, but she didn't even notice me. The bell rang for the next class, English. I had to go back. The English teacher assigned an essay today titled "My Father." I didn't know how to start, so I just sat there awkwardly for the entire period. The sky outside was grey, looking like it was about to rain, making everyone feel heavy. However, Leo was very happy. He told everyone that his dad was coming to pick him up today. When school ended, a torrential downpour started, just as expected. Surprisingly, in the entire huge school, Leo and I were the only ones left waiting. The security guard brought us to the guardhouse. Leo looked terrible. He kept yelling into his smartwatch: "I don't care! I don't want to hear any excuses! You have to come pick me up!" Then he put his watch down and started stomping on the floor, "Bang, bang, bang." I thought he really looked like an angry, unreasonable monkey. I don't know how long it had been, but the Vance family driver finally appeared outside the guardhouse. "I don't want you. Where's my dad?" The little tyrant threw a tantrum at the driver outside the window. The driver awkwardly made a phone call. Not long after, a man holding a massive black umbrella walked over at a leisurely pace. The sky was still gloomy, and the wind was howling outside. Even though the umbrella shielded his face, you could tell the man had an upright, straight posture, possessing a calm composure that feared no storm. Leo had already jumped up, rushed out of the guardhouse, and sprinted into the man's arms. The man extended a hand, firmly grabbing Leo by the collar. It was a pair of hands that looked powerful and reassuring—wide palms with pronounced knuckles. It looked exactly like the kind of hands a dad should have. The man set Leo down, held the umbrella with one hand, and tilted most of it toward Leo's side. Then, without mercy, he smacked the back of Leo's head. That crisp smack sounded like someone thumping a watermelon. I stared, a little dazed. Leo didn't mind. Instead, he suddenly turned around and flashed me a smug, gloating smile. "Poor little thing." He mocked me with a funny face. "Keep waiting by yourself!" 02 I simply stayed in the guardhouse. I had almost finished all my homework by the time the storm stopped. The security guard, Mr. Lee, even shared his dinner with me—a basket of delicious steamed buns. After thanking him, I walked back to the apartment I rented with my mom. I did a quick mop of the floor and read "The Magic School Bus" before my mom finally came home. The bedroom door was pushed open, and my mom peeked half her body in with a beaming smile: "Baby, why aren't you asleep yet?" My eyes immediately zeroed in on her other arm, which she was hiding behind the door. "Mom! You hurt your left hand?" She scratched her head: "You've got sharp eyes, kid. 20/20 vision, I see." I asked her what happened. "Something fell on it at work," she sighed. "It's fine now, but I can't use my left hand for a couple of weeks." "Can you rest at home for these two weeks?" I asked tentatively. "What kind of capitalist has that kind of heart? Give you a few weeks off, do you still want to keep your job?" I lowered my eyes, feeling a bit upset. "Ta-da! Look what I have here!" My mom suddenly raised her voice and quickly brought out a roast duck and a can of beer she had been hiding behind her back to distract me. "This is a gift from my stingy boss." "Were you planning to eat it all by yourself?" I asked quietly. She scratched her cheek: "Am I that kind of person?" I had to help her recall the times after I fell asleep when she hid in the living room drinking boba, eating BBQ, and watching TV shows... Under the dim light, we shared the roast duck. I suddenly remembered seeing Leo's dad today, so I asked softly, "Mom, what kind of person was my dad?" I knew my mom didn't like talking about my dad. But after a moment of silence, she actually started telling me: He had a bad temper, spent all his time working, and only knew how to solve problems by throwing a black Amex card at them... "What did he look like? Were his hands big?" "Pretty big, and he was quite tall." My mom burst out laughing. "Why are you asking this?" I wanted to hear more, but my mom's voice went flat: "Kid, knowing this won't do you any good. He's already dead." I could only look at her eagerly and ask one last question: "Did my dad love me when he was alive?" She stroked my head and said softly, "Go to sleep, baby." I don't know why, but I felt like she looked sad even while smiling. The next day, I got to school early and started writing the essay I hadn't finished the day before. When I handed it in, Mr. Davis actually used mine as a model essay and read it out loud in front of the whole class. My Father My father often keeps a straight face, always looking unhappy. My father is always very busy and has no time to take care of me, but I know he is always by my side. My father is the best father in the world. Whenever it rains, he drops all his work to come pick me up from school. His hands are so big, just like his big black umbrella, able to shield my mom and me from all the storms in the world... After school, Leo found me, his face burning with anger: "You thief! You clearly wrote about my dad." He reached out to push me. I quickly ran back, but he caught up instantly, pinning me against the wall at the back of the classroom, yelling fiercely: "Thief!" I suddenly got angry and shoved him hard. Actually, I was already taller and stronger than him. He fell to the ground, his face instantly turning black, and started cursing at me. I had never heard such vicious words before! Old grudges and new resentments piled up. Not only did I not let him go, but I sat on him, throwing a punch for every curse word he spat. By the time I snapped out of it, Ms. Evans had already rushed into the classroom. She screamed, pulled me off Leo, and held him close, comforting him for a long time. Leo pretended to cry for a bit, then said dramatically: "Ms. Evans, my dad entrusted me to you. I've always thought of you as a mom. I only have you, boo hoo hoo." Ms. Evans turned her head and glared at me fiercely: "Audrey! Right now, immediately, call your mother to come to the school!" 03 "Does your daughter have violent tendencies?" Ms. Evans's voice was shrill. "Look at what she did to Leo!" Leo immediately let out a few groans, pretending to be in a lot of pain. Ms. Evans spoke gently to him: "Be a good boy, Leo. I called your dad, he'll be here soon." My mom, with her left arm in a cast, was still wearing the green vest from the convenience store and a cheap hat with the store's logo. She seemed to have rushed over, her bangs blown into a mess. She glanced at me and said anxiously, "Audrey is usually very well-behaved. She wouldn't hit someone for no reason." Ms. Evans raised her voice: "Are you saying I'm falsely accusing your daughter?" "That's not what I mean," my mom said quickly. "I just want to hear the children explain what happened." "Audrey," Ms. Evans turned to me coldly, "Tell me yourself, what did you do wrong?" I stubbornly kept my mouth shut. Ms. Evans seemed infuriated. "Fine, if you won't say it, I will." "You don't follow discipline when lining up." "The other students don't like you. You have no ability to integrate into the group." "And now you've even learned to beat up your classmates." "Just now when I asked you, you didn't say a word. You've learned how to be deceitful too." "Let me ask you, do you even respect me as your homeroom teacher?" My mom looked at me, her lips moving: "Ms. Evans, there might be some misunderstanding..." Ms. Evans let out a contemptuous smile: "Since you insist on turning a blind eye to your daughter's mistakes, I have nothing more to say." She slammed her thermos onto the desk. "I can't teach her. You should find a better teacher. Go ask around and see which homeroom teacher in this school is willing to take her. Transfer her out immediately." At these words, my mom's face turned completely white. Although she usually didn't act like a typical strict mother, she was very serious about my education. Usually, if I scored below an 80 on a test, she wouldn't hesitate to give me a spanking. Not to mention, education had always been more important than life itself to her. "No, please." My mom panicked, begging her, "Ms. Evans, please give Audrey another chance. She's young, she doesn't know any better." Ms. Evans turned her head, snorted coldly, and faced the wall. My mom continued to beg bitterly, saying everything she could to appease her. But no matter what my mom said, Ms. Evans just told her to find someone else to take me. But in a school, which homeroom teacher would accept a student another teacher rejected? "Please have a little mercy." My mom raised her injured arm. "I promise I will properly discipline Audrey when we go home. Please don't give up on her." Ms. Evans turned back, but still picked at her: "How can I trust you?" My mom paused, as if making a firm decision: "Ms. Evans, I work long hours and don't have time to pay attention to Audrey's mental state. She's always alone, and there's no one to teach her right from wrong." It was the first time I saw my mom speak so seriously. I stared at her blankly. My mom gripped the armrest of a chair and slowly knelt down, pleading once more: "Ms. Evans, the person at fault is actually me, her mother. I didn't raise her well; it's not Audrey's fault. Please, give her another chance." After she spoke, her usually thin, straight shoulders slumped deeply. I stared at her in shock. This woman, who was usually always joking and informal, was my mother; this woman, kneeling on the floor, humbling herself and begging the teacher not to abandon me, was my mother; this woman, who taught me to be an upright person and to study hard, was my mother... A hard life had never crushed her, but at this moment, she surrendered her dignity for my sake. I couldn't hold it in any longer. I immediately hugged her shoulders and knelt down beside her. "I'm sorry, it's my fault. Mom, it's not your fault." I had never felt such intense regret for doing something. Tears streamed from my eyes, and I felt my heart breaking into pieces. Ms. Evans also seemed startled. She lowered her voice: "I didn't mean..." "I'm sorry, Ms. Evans," I cried too. "I promise I'll never hit anyone again." Amidst the commotion, Leo suddenly shouted excitedly: "Dad, you're finally here." Ms. Evans jumped, hurriedly pushed us away, bent down, and quickly touched up her lipstick using a small mirror on the desk. The first thing I heard was a cold voice: "Leo, tell me yourself, what kind of trouble did you cause this time?" The office door was pushed open. The footsteps drew closer, and the man's voice seemed tinged with fatigue and annoyance: "Confess right now, before I have to make you." I felt my mom's body stiffen. She turned her head to look, then immediately lowered it, as if she had seen something unbelievable. For a moment, I felt like she wanted to hide under the desk. "Mr. Vance." Ms. Evans stood up, beaming. "You misunderstand. Today, Leo was the one who was bullied. Don't be too hard on him." The man stopped casually behind her: "Bullied by who?" "Her." Ms. Evans pointed at me, sighing. "There's something wrong with this girl's head." I didn't dare to argue, I could only turn around, prostrating myself on the floor, and say, "I'm sorry." The man squatted down. He looked at the bruises on Leo's face, his tone completely flat: "Got beat up? Does it hurt?" Leo quickly let out a pathetic "Mhm." The man frowned, but said mercilessly: "Useless." After criticizing Leo, his sharp eyes swept over me: "A young girl who likes to use her fists. Didn't your parents teach you any manners?" Stared down by his dark, gloomy eyes, I almost burst into tears again, so I bit my lip hard. "She really wasn't raised right," Ms. Evans quickly added. "I just reprimanded her, and her mom knelt down to apologize. Sigh... Mr. Vance, how do you think we should handle this?" "How should we handle this?" Mr. Vance slowly repeated the words, and anyone could hear the icy tone in his voice. Hearing this, I immediately straightened up, frantically grabbed the hem of his suit jacket, and said: "Mister, I didn't mean it, I swear, I will never mess with him again." Mr. Vance looked down at me, suddenly frowning. He pinched my chin with one hand, his gaze even revealing a bit of confusion and bewilderment: "Why do you... look so much like..." He didn't finish his sentence. After a long silence, he just shook his head: "Ms. Evans, forget it." Leo started screaming: "How can we just forget it?" "Then what do you want?" Mr. Vance's tone grew a bit impatient. "I want Audrey to apologize to me in front of the whole class tomorrow." Leo's little mouth babbled on. "And last time she mocked me for not having a mom." Mr. Vance's face turned as dark as the bottom of a pot, while my mom's face went completely pale. She secretly glanced at Leo, her eyes a mix of pain and inner conflict. She seemed to want to say something but bit her lip, burying her head even lower, her body trembling slightly. I was a bit worried and quickly squeezed my mom's hand. "Enough, you little brat," Mr. Vance raised his hand and grabbed Leo's collar. "I think you really are asking for a beating." "Getting beat up by a little girl is embarrassing enough, and you want the whole class to laugh at you?" Ms. Evans seemed surprised that the matter was dropping so easily. She pursed her lips and said: "Since Mr. Vance isn't pursuing the matter, Audrey's mom, you should apologize to him." My mom didn't say a word, trembling even more violently. Ms. Evans waited, growing impatient: "Audrey's mom? Does muteness run in your family?" Mr. Vance finally seemed to notice there was a woman kneeling on the floor. He casually turned his head, and with just one glance, he froze. He let go of Leo's collar and stood up instantly. "I'm sorry," my mom finally said softly, her head still buried low. The man parted his lips, seemingly using a great deal of effort just to call out a name: "Chloe... is that you?" I didn't know how he knew my mom's name. "You have the wrong person." My mom immediately turned her face away, but her left hand in the cast clenched painfully into a fist, as if she were enduring something. "It is you." Mr. Vance stared fixedly at my mom, his facial expression a mix of crying and laughing, hatred and joy, his whole face twisting terribly. "Chloe—" He seemed to chew on the name, his eyes glued to my mom. "When did you get back?" My mom turned her head, refusing to meet his gaze. Even Ms. Evans realized something was wrong, her face changing instantly: "Do you know her, Mr. Vance?" "Know her? Far more than that." He seemed furious, unable to bear it any longer, and pulled my mom up from the floor with one hand. "Eight years since we last saw each other, and you're this pathetic, ridiculous mess?" "Chloe, I used to treat you like a princess, terrified of you getting hurt. And you're f***ing kneeling to someone here today?" "Chloe, whose face are you disgracing right now?" "Get up!" Once my mom was pulled up, she quickly grabbed my hand, as if trying to rush me out of there. But Mr. Vance still firmly gripped my mom's slender wrist. In front of everyone, this tall, intimidating man's eyes actually grew red: "Chloe, we haven't seen each other in so many years, and you won't even look up at me?" He seemed to realize something and suddenly looked at me: "How old are you?" Inexplicably, I met a pair of eyes filled with disbelief. The owner of those eyes spoke angrily: "Chloe, is she our—" "Audrey is seven this year," my mom interrupted. "She's my daughter with my husband. Carter Vance, she has nothing to do with you." She paused, her voice seemingly suppressing immense pain as she continued: "And you have no right to question me now, whether I'm a beggar or anything else." I nervously glanced between them. Actually, I'm eight this year. I don't know why my mom lied about my age. But I figured my mom must have her reasons. After hearing her words, Mr. Vance asked, crestfallen: "You... got married?"
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