“It’s just some cheap domestic junk,” he snarled. “I’ll smash it however I want!”
The next second, he and several others yanked open the doors, climbed inside, and slashed at the leather seats and interior.
In moments, the once-pristine cabin was a wreck.
Yes, the car was American-made.
But it wasn’t junk—it was a Presidential Cadillac, a state-issued vehicle assigned to me by the Special Operations Command. It was more than a car; it was an emblem of honor.
Watching these maniacs desecrate it, I quietly pulled out my phone and called my commanding officer.
“Colonel, the official vehicle assigned to me has been vandalized.”
Before the voice on the other end could reply, one of the parents snatched my phone and smashed it to pieces on the pavement.
“Still trying to tattle? You’re nothing but a useless gigolo. What gives you the right?”
“Yeah, probably calling his sugar-mama sponsor to crush us. What a joke!”
“Man really thinks he’s somebody important.”
“Trash like you should’ve been thrown out with the garbage. Pretentious bastard.”
They burst out laughing, mocking me like hyenas.
I stared at the shattered phone and said coldly:
“I hope you’re still laughing in a few minutes.”
Then I turned to Ms. Carter.
“My son was bullied here. You knew about it, didn’t you?”
She glared with contempt.
“So what if I did? The rotten genes of a worthless freeloader produce nothing but garbage. Brandon was just taking out the trash.”
Applause broke out among the parents.
“No wonder you’re the teacher, Ms. Carter—so fair and sharp!”
“That’s right. This is an elite academy, not a dumping ground for strays.”
“Why does the son of a kept man even need school? Better you teach him how to serve rich women like his father. Maybe he’ll outdo you, latch onto someone even wealthier.”
Brandon’s Dad grew bolder, crowing:
“See? This is what happens to parasites like you. You and your bastard son will always be at the bottom, despised by everyone.”
The air filled with abuse. The louder they cursed me, the wider Brandon’s Dad’s grin stretched.
Ms. Carter seized the moment to flatter him further:
“Brandon’s Dad, the principal said if you’re satisfied with how we handle this, we hope you might help us. Crestwood is planning to expand, but all the surrounding land belongs to Stone Enterprises. If you could…”
He folded his arms, smug.
“Don’t worry. I’m pleased. When the time comes, one word from me and my wife will hand over the land.”
Her face lit up. “Thank you in advance!”
Other parents jumped in one after another:
“My wife’s company has worked with Stone Enterprises before. Could we get priority on contracts?”
“My firm’s pivoting industries—maybe we could cooperate with Stone Enterprises too?”
“Brandon’s Dad, here’s an unlimited shopping card to my mall. Please accept it. Hopefully our families can keep in closer touch.”
One after another, they scrambled to ingratiate themselves, even slipping bank cards into his bag.
