After picking up my daughter Evelina from preschool, she came home in tears, clutching her broken cochlear implant. “Mommy, that boy in my class said this thing is ugly,” she sobbed. “He told me if I dared to wear it again, he’d hurt me.” Fuming with anger, I immediately tagged the boy’s mother in our class group chat. To my surprise, her response was shockingly arrogant: [So what if my son broke it? I even stole your husband—messing with your daughter’s things is nothing. [Sure, you’re the legitimate wife, but you gave birth to a defective child! [My son is the eldest grandson of the Clapham family and the future heir. Who do you think you are?] Even their teacher chimed in, advising me to let it go. [Ms. Isabel Quiller, maybe it’s best to apologize.] Ms. Lytton suggested gently. [After all, you’re both the wives of the Clapham family’s sons, but she gave birth to a healthy boy. Rich families still prioritize sons, don’t they?] I laughed, though there was no humor in it. Immediately, I froze my husband’s credit cards and called him directly. “What did you do? Using my money to fund a mistress while letting her bully me?” I demanded. He cried out in protest. “Honey, you can’t just accuse me of things because I’ve been away for a week!” I was in the study reviewing some documents when my daughter suddenly interrupted me. Before I could say a word, she burst into tears and threw herself into my arms. “Mom, Mommy!” “I don’t want to wear my hearing aid to school anymore!” Hearing her choking on her sobs, my heart tightened. I quickly took her shoulders and asked why. As I spoke, I noticed a clear crack on her hearing aid. Her next words confirmed my suspicions. “Murray Clapham in my class said this thing is ugly. “He… he won’t let me wear it. “He ripped it off my head and threw it on the ground.” Seeing her so upset, I felt a mix of sorrow and anger. Gently, I wiped away her tears. “Sweetie, don’t cry. I will set things straight.” But just as I reached for my phone, her small hand pressed down on mine. Her face was a mixture of fear and desperation as she shook her head. “Please, Mom, don’t. “We can’t afford to cross them! “His family… they’re the richest in town. He’s the son of the richest family.” Her gaze fell, her voice drained. “Never mind, Mom. I’ll just wear a hat to school tomorrow… “So he can’t see it.” I paused, puzzled. The richest? Wasn’t that supposed to be me? After all, I controlled the family’s finances and held the real authority. Since when did I gain a son without knowing? Seeing my daughter so downtrodden ignited a fire in me. “Evelina, don’t worry,” I promised. “Tomorrow, I’ll go to school with you. Let’s see who dares to bully you then.” After calming her down, I picked up my phone and reopened the class group chat, which I hadn’t used in ages. I tagged Murray Clapham’s mother. [Are you aware that your son deliberately broke my daughter’s cochlear implant?] Typically, I was patient, even kind, when handling mistakes made by my employees. But now, seeing my daughter bullied, I found all my composure gone. The once lively group chat went silent as soon as I sent my message. The lack of response from the person in question only fueled my anger. I tagged her again. “Ms. Sara Thomson, are you aware of what your son did?” This time, she responded, and her reply left me speechless. She posted a picture of her son’s hand in the group chat and then tagged me. [Oh, it’s you!] she began. [My Murray came home saying his hand hurt—it’s all red! [Turns out he scratched it pulling that thing off your daughter’s head. [I haven’t even come to you about it, and here you are, acting all offended. Do you even have any shame?] Reading the endless messages from her, I was dumbfounded. I had never seen anyone so brazenly shameless! I typed back without even thinking. [Well, your parenting is certainly a revelation. Truly remarkable. [Seems like there’s no point talking to you here. Let’s discuss this in person at the kindergarten tomorrow!] But as soon as I hit send, her response came back even more brazenly, flaunting her status. [You? Who do you think you are to talk to me? [Do you even know who my son is?] Right then, Daniel Parker’s mom jumped in, quick to support her. [He’s the son of Hughes Clapham, the wealthiest man in the city! [Evelina’s mom, you’d better apologize. Maybe they’ll forgive you if you’re lucky.] Seeing that familiar name, I couldn’t help but laugh. [When we all joined, didn’t we confirm each other’s identities? [Hughes Clapham is my child’s father. Or is there a case of mistaken identity here?] This time, Murray’s mother, sent a voice message. Her shrill voice rang out through my phone. [No mistake at all. We share the same husband! [It’s just that I gave him a son, and you only have a daughter.]
I was so upset that my phone slipped from my hand, clattering onto the table. [What do you mean?] I typed back. Sara sent an emoji first, then boldly revealed her identity. [I’m Hughes’ mistress—but that’s about to change soon enough.] Reading her message made my skin crawl. Daniel’s mother chimed in immediately, ready to flatter her. [Mistress? Who cares about that? Anyone who bears a son is practically a wife!] Jeremy Hayden’s dad joined in. [Only someone as wealthy as Hughes Clapham could pull that off. Impressive!] Then Andrew Tuttle’s mother added her voice, hoping to score points. [Sara, you’ve got real talent—you have a boy, and a strong one at that! [You’re set for life now.] I recognized each word, but somehow, seeing them strung together left me struggling to process the meaning. Immediately after, Sara tagged me directly in the group chat. [Technically, I should show you some respect. [But you only gave Hughes a daughter and a disabled one at that. [Meanwhile, I had a boy. Need I say more about who’s more valuable here? [My son will be the heir of the Clapham family someday. But hey, if you get your daughter on her best behavior, I might just let her stay around in the future.] I couldn’t hold back any longer and typed back furiously. [Are you out of your mind? [Do you really think I wouldn’t know if Hughes had a mistress? [I’m here talking about my daughter—don’t bring up other stuff!] Daniel’s mother immediately jumped in. [Isabel, it’s not too late to admit you were wrong. [You’re all part of the same family, but her son is the firstborn heir, isn’t he?] Andrew’s mom couldn’t resist adding: [Exactly. So you’re the wife. Big deal. All you have is a useless daughter, and you know as well as I do that you are never going to be respected for it.] Their words, heartlessly discussing my daughter’s disability, made my whole body shake with anger. Without a second thought, I grabbed my phone and called my assistant. “Look up everything you can on Daniel Parker and Andrew Tuttle’s families!” The call ended, but new messages were popping up in the group. Sara taunted: [I took your husband. My son damaging your daughter’s hearing device. What can you do about it? [And consider what might happen if you cross me. [Hughes would definitely leave you if I asked him to.] Reading the enthusiastic messages cheering Sara on made me feel sick. I was just about to respond when Ms. Lytton, Evelina’s teacher, called. “Is this Isabel Quiller?” I took a deep breath, trying to control my anger. “Yes, this is she. I just wanted to understand—” She cut me off sharply. “I know this might not entirely be your fault,” she said. “But let’s be clear. Do you even know who you’re dealing with?” “What kind of person are you talking about?” I muttered, feeling speechless. Ms. Lytton clicked her tongue disapprovingly. “Look, I know both you and Sara are wives of the Clapham family’s sons. “But don’t you understand who holds more weight here? “Wealthy families have always favored sons, and let’s face it—your daughter has her own issues. “So, tell me, what makes you think you stand a chance here?” Her words were like a punch to the gut, leaving me nauseated. If I didn’t have Hughes’ every move under careful watch, I might have actually wondered if he’d really betrayed me. When I stayed silent, she took it as her cue to continue her “guidance.” “Honestly, the best thing you could do is let this go. “This is just kids playing around, right? He’s the Clapham heir. If he wants to roughhouse a little, who’s to stop him? “Just think it over carefully.” I finally snapped, my voice rising. “Tomorrow morning, I want a face-to-face meeting with Sara. “Please make it happen.” I hung up, heart pounding, a throbbing pain building in my temples as fury and disbelief washed over me.
Before going to bed, I decided to cut off Hughes’ credit card. Soon after, he called, sounding a bit cautious. “Honey, my card’s not working. I was just about to buy Evelina a gift.” I could barely contain my irritation. “Oh? So you’re using my money to keep another daughter on the side, and you even had a son?” There was a moment of confusion on the other end. “Honey, you’re accusing me of something here. What’s going on?” Still fuming, I filled him in on everything that happened today. He protested his innocence and assured me he’d booked a flight and would be home by tomorrow afternoon. That night, I slept beside my daughter. Her little cheeks were flushed, and her eyes were a bit swollen. The more I thought about Sara’s dismissive attitude, the more I couldn’t sleep. Early the next morning, the nanny came rushing in to tell me, “Evelina won’t put on her cochlear implant.” A pang of sadness struck me as I entered her room, where I found her quietly wiping away tears. When she saw me, she forced a smile. “Mommy!” I gently put the device on her. “Why aren’t you wearing it, sweetheart? Don’t you want to hear Mommy’s voice?” Evelina bit her lip and shook her head. “I’m afraid he’ll stomp on this new one, too.” It was clear that yesterday’s events had left her with an indelible scar. If I didn’t handle this properly, she’d be reminded of yesterday every time she wore her cochlear implant. I managed a small smile and gave her cheek a gentle squeeze. “Don’t worry. Today, Mommy’s going to school with you to make sure you’re okay.” After breakfast, I drove her to the kindergarten. As we entered, I noticed a few parents already gathered at the door. Ms. Lytton’s face darkened when she saw me. She came right over. “Isabel, Sara is here too. “I suggest you show some courtesy and apologize.” I brushed past her, holding my daughter close, and walked into the small crowd. I spotted Sara right away. Despite it being early autumn, she was already wrapped in a fur coat, with flashy gold jewelry hanging around her neck and wrists. She was basking in the attention of the other parents, her face beaming with pride. “Sara, your skin looks so flawless. How do you do it?” “Oh, that bracelet on your wrist must have cost quite a bit!” I walked up to them, cutting into the conversation with a cold tone. “So, you’re Murray’s mother, Sara Thomson? “Where’s your son? Are you planning to explain what he did to my daughter yesterday?” My words brought an instant chill to the atmosphere. The other women, who had been chatting away, turned their attention to me. To keep things professional, I was dressed in a tailored suit, and on my wrist was a simple watch with a Peppa Pig charm that Evelina loved. They looked me over from head to toe and finally gave me a disdainful smile. Sara crossed her arms and shot me a smug glance. “Oh, you actually had the nerve to come here?” I raised an eyebrow. “Your son was in the wrong. Why wouldn’t I come?” She laughed, waving me off dismissively, and then pointed at my daughter. “She’s just a disabled kid. My son bullied her, so what?”
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