Chapter 2

The whispers in the gymnasium grew louder. I heard snippets of conversation from the parents around me.

"That's her father's caregiver?"

"She wants to take a gift back? How tacky."

"Look at her, she looks so cold. I feel sorry for that poor woman."

The words felt like a physical weight, pressing down on me. My face was hot, and my hands were cold. I looked down at my daughter, Lily. She was clutching my leg, her face buried in my pants, and her small body was trembling. She was only seven. She shouldn't have to see this. She shouldn't have to hear these horrible things.

A fierce, protective anger washed over me, eclipsing my own shame. I knelt down and put my arms around her.

"It's okay, sweetie," I whispered into her hair. "Mommy's here. Let's go."

I stood up, holding Lily's hand tightly, and faced Brenda. My voice was steady now, cold and sharp.

"Get out of here, Brenda. You are not welcome here. You are frightening my child."

Mark stepped forward, placing a protective hand on my shoulder. "You heard my wife," he said, his voice a low growl. "Leave now."

Brenda's fake tears vanished in an instant. Her face twisted into a mask of pure malice. "Or what? You'll hit a woman? In front of all these people?"

And then, she did something so outrageous I could barely believe it. She threw herself onto the floor.

"Oh, help me!" she wailed, clutching her leg. "She pushed me! The rich, cruel daughter pushed me down! My leg! I think it's broken!"

The crowd gasped. A few people moved forward as if to help her. It was a complete lie. I hadn't touched her. I was standing ten feet away.

Chad, seeing his cue, lunged toward me. "You bitch! You hurt my mom!"

He raised his hand to strike me, but Mark moved faster. He shoved Chad back, a solid, unyielding force.

"You touch my wife and I will have you arrested for assault," Mark said, his voice dangerously calm.

Chad stumbled backward, his face red with fury. He was bigger than Mark, but he was also a coward. He just stood there, breathing heavily, not making another move.

"Let's go, Olivia," Mark said, turning us toward the exit. I scooped Lily up into my arms. She was crying silently, her tears soaking my shirt.

We started to walk away, but Brenda, still on the floor, grabbed my ankle. Her grip was surprisingly strong, like a steel trap.

"You're not going anywhere!" she shrieked. "You're going to pay for this!"

I tried to shake her off, but she held on tight. The scene was spiraling out of control. Teachers were rushing over, parents were pulling out their phones.

And then, everything stopped.

A voice cut through the noise, a voice I knew better than my own.

"What is going on here?"

It was my father. He was standing right behind me, his face a storm cloud of anger. My first thought was relief. He would see what was happening. He would stop this madness. He would defend me.

I was wrong.

He walked past me without a glance. He rushed to Brenda's side, helping her up with a tenderness I hadn't seen from him in years.

"Are you okay, my love?" he asked her, his voice full of concern.

Then he turned to me. His eyes were cold, filled with a disappointment so profound it physically hurt.

"Olivia," he said, his voice trembling with rage. "How could you? How could you do this to Brenda?"

Before I could even form a response, his hand flew up and connected with my cheek.

The slap was loud, echoing through the now-silent gymnasium. My head snapped to the side. The sting was sharp, immediate. But the pain in my heart was a thousand times worse. My own father had just hit me. In public. In front of my daughter.

I stared at him, my hand on my cheek, my mind reeling in disbelief. Lily let out a terrified sob from my arms.

Brenda clung to his arm, a triumphant smirk on her face.

"Tell her, darling," Brenda cooed. "Tell your ungrateful daughter the truth."

My father looked at me, his face hard and unforgiving.

"Brenda is not my girlfriend, Olivia," he said, his words landing like another blow. "She's my wife. We got married last month."