The next afternoon.
Breanna sat cross-legged on the manicured green lawn of the kindergarten's private outdoor area. She had been temporarily hired as Cole's "companion."
Cole sat beside her in front of a wooden easel. His hand moved across the canvas. The heavy black lines from yesterday were gone, replaced by bright splashes of yellow and blue.
Breanna smiled, reaching over to help him sharpen a colored pencil. The air between them was quiet and incredibly peaceful.
The recess bell rang. A group of older boys in custom uniforms swaggered over.
The leader was Leo, a heavy-set boy whose father was a Wall Street titan.
Leo stopped in front of Cole's easel. He pointed a chubby finger at the canvas and laughed loudly. "Look at the freak! He's drawing garbage again!"
Cole didn't look up. His small hand gripped the paintbrush so hard his knuckles turned white.
Leo smirked. He stepped closer and shoved Cole's shoulder hard. "Hey, mute! My dad says you don't have a real mom! You're a nobody!"
The word hit Cole like a live wire.
Cole dropped the brush. He launched himself off the grass like a missile, slamming his head directly into Leo's stomach.
Both boys crashed to the ground, rolling in the dirt. The other children screamed and scattered.
Breanna's heart leaped into her throat. She scrambled to her feet and lunged forward, grabbing Cole by the waist to pull him off.
Leo's personal bodyguard, a massive man in a tight suit, rushed in. He didn't care who Breanna was. He threw his arm out and shoved her violently backward.
Breanna flew back. Her hands hit the rough stone pathway bordering the grass. The skin on her right palm ripped open. Blood instantly welled up, stinging sharply.
Cole saw the blood on Breanna's hand.
His eyes went wide. Total, unhinged rage took over. He grabbed the heavy wooden easel and hurled it at the bodyguard's legs.
"Security!" a teacher screamed in terror.
At that exact second, the roar of heavy engines drowned out the playground noise.
Three black Land Rover Defenders jumped the curb and slammed to a halt on the edge of the grass. The doors flew open simultaneously. A dozen men in tactical suits swarmed the area, forming a perimeter.
The rear door of the center vehicle opened. A long leg stepped out in a polished leather shoe.
Elliot Finch stepped onto the grass. The air pressure in the yard seemed to drop.
The parents and bodyguards froze, holding their breath. They parted like the Red Sea as Elliot marched toward the center of the chaos.
Elliot stopped in front of Cole. He looked at his son's messy hair and the dirt on his blazer. His eyes turned to absolute ice.
"Where is the security detail?" Elliot's voice was a low, lethal rumble that made the teachers tremble.
Breanna sat on the ground, clutching her bleeding hand to her chest. She heard that voice. The cold, arrogant, terrifying voice from the parking garage.
Her blood ran cold. She slowly raised her head.
Her eyes locked onto the tall, imposing figure standing over her. Her brain short-circuited.
Cole broke away from the teacher. He ran to Breanna and threw his arms around her legs, standing protectively in front of her.
Cole pointed a shaking finger at Leo and the bodyguard. "They hurt her, Dad! They made Breanna bleed!"
Elliot's gaze followed his son's finger. He looked down.
When his eyes landed on Breanna's face, Elliot's pupils contracted violently. The muscles in his jaw instantly turned to granite.
He thought he had thrown this calculating, money-hungry woman into the gutter. And now, she had somehow wrapped her claws around his mentally fragile son.
The silence on the lawn was deafening. The tension was thick enough to choke on.
