The slap came out of nowhere and left my head ringing.
The other parents closed in, pointing fingers, their mockery relentless.
"Look at you, all dolled up like some decent woman. Couldn't find anything better to do than spread your legs for a married man and pop out his kid?"
"It's always the ones who look innocent. Behind closed doors, she's probably in heat the second she smells money. Can't wait to throw herself at any rich man who walks by!"
"A homewrecker is a disgrace to all women. And a homewrecker's kid? Even worse. That brat deserves to suffer!"
Their accusations drew a crowd. Onlookers gathered, pointing and whispering.
Some pulled out their phones, snapping photos and recording video. Others spat on me.
I peeled off my coat, worth well over a million dollars, and dropped it into a nearby trash can.
Then I turned to face Jolene head-on.
"First you put your son up to torturing my daughter. Now you assault me in broad daylight. Who exactly gave you the nerve to act like you're above the law?"
Jolene lifted her chin, radiating self-righteous fury.
"A wife slapping the mistress? That's justice."
"Besides, I'm the wife of Goldcrest Group's CEO. Smacking around a filthy pair like you and your brat is nothing. I could end your lives and no one would bat an eye."
The other parents rallied behind her instantly.
"If you hadn't been sleeping with her husband, she wouldn't have had to hit you. You brought this on yourself."
"A cheap little homewrecker like you should be crawling on your hands and knees when you see the real wife. Instead you're standing here provoking her? One slap is letting you off easy."
"Exactly. Addicted to being a whore, aren't you? Playing the victim with that holier-than-thou look on your face. Who are you performing for? We're not the brain-dead men you seduce!"
Even the bystanders joined in, hurling insults.
Each one fouler than the last.
Jolene fed off every word, growing bolder by the second.
Her gaze drifted to the car behind me, and her eyes blazed. "You shameless tramp. Spending my husband's money without a shred of guilt? You're actually driving a Rolls-Royce? You think trash like you deserves to sit behind that wheel?"
"I despise homewreckers more than anything on this earth. Every last one of you deserves to rot!"
She yanked a key from her pocket and dragged it across the body of the car, gouging deep scratches that spelled out jagged words.
HOMEWRECKERS DESERVE TO DIE!
I glanced at the ugly letters carved into the paint, and my voice dropped to ice.
"You're going to realize very soon just how ironic those words are."
That sent Jolene over the edge.
"You worthless whore! You live off my husband's money and still have the audacity to act high and mighty? Today, you're going to cough up every last cent you've stolen from him!"
She snatched a brick from the curb and swung it into the car with everything she had.
Windows. Headlights. The hood. Nothing was spared.
The other parents caught her frenzy like a fever. They grabbed whatever they could find and threw themselves at the car, smashing it from every angle.
After the windows shattered, they climbed inside and slashed the seats and interior to ribbons.
In minutes, the pristine luxury vehicle was reduced to a heap of scrap metal.
Then one of the women pried open the trunk and let out a shriek.
"Get over here! She's got all kinds of goodies stashed back here!"
Jolene strode over and pulled out a scroll painting, lip curling with contempt.
"A cheap tramp who sells her body for a living, playing art collector? Pretending to have class?"
"Having a piece like this in the hands of someone like you is an insult to the artist."
"Garbage like you only deserves garbage!"
She ripped the painting apart right in front of me.
Then she threw the shreds on the ground and stomped on them, grinding them under her heel.
A man in the crowd who clearly knew something about art leaned in for a closer look at the remnants and gasped.
"That painting looked like an authentic Tang Yin. I heard the opening bid at auction was three hundred million dollars!"
Jolene didn't flinch. "Three hundred million? So what? It's all my husband's money anyway."
"My husband's money is my money. I'm destroying my own property. What's the problem?"
I was so furious I almost couldn't speak.
Setting aside the fact that Zachary was nothing more than a penniless live-in husband, even after I'd handed him Goldcrest Group to manage, his incompetence had tanked the company's market value by nearly half.
If he weren't my husband, I would have fired him a long time ago.
But Jolene and every parent standing here treated him like some all-powerful CEO.
They practically worshipped the ground he walked on.
With Jolene leading the charge, the other parents weren't about to be outdone. They tore into the rest of my collection in the trunk, ripping and smashing with abandon.
Every piece had been acquired at auction earlier that day, at enormous cost. I hadn't even had time to store them properly before these women destroyed them all.
I watched the pack of lunatics and quietly pulled out my phone.
"Why aren't you here yet? You have five minutes. I want you in front of me."
Before the other end could respond, one of the parents lunged forward and snatched the phone from my hand, hurling it to the pavement.
"Calling for backup? A gutter-trash mistress like you, where do you get the nerve?"
"Acting like you're somebody important. Who do you think you are?"
"She's probably calling one of her clients to come put on a show for us. Ha!"
The parents erupted in vicious laughter, mocking me without restraint.
I stared at the phone shattered to pieces on the ground. My voice was cold and even.
"I hope you're all still laughing this hard in a few minutes."
I turned to Vera.
"My daughter was being bullied at this school. You knew about it, didn't you?"
The teacher glared at me with open disgust. "So what if I did?"
"An illegitimate brat born to some lowlife mistress is nothing but society's garbage."
"Murray was just taking out the trash. What's the problem with that?"
