Chapter 3

On the third day, Libby and I had just reached the entrance of our complex when a crowd blocked our way.

Mrs. Whitney stood there in a designer suit and sunglasses, several hulking bodyguards behind her.

There were a few other parents too, the kind who lived to stir up trouble, holding up a white banner between them.

It read: "Vicious girl, get out of Riverton. Justice for my son!"

Neighbors swarmed in to watch, packed three deep on every side.

The second she spotted me, Mrs. Whitney whipped off her sunglasses and started wailing at the top of her lungs.

"Everyone, come look! This is that shameless woman!"

"Her daughter beat my son into a severe concussion. He's still lying in a hospital bed, can't even get up!"

"And not only won't she pay a cent, she texted me insults!"

"Trash like this, a born killer, should be thrown out of our complex! We can't let our children live next to a monster like her!"

The neighbors listened and immediately started pointing at me.

"Goodness, kids these days are terrifying. So vicious."

"Looks so quiet and well-mannered, but a heart that black."

"Get out of our complex already. What bad luck to have her here!"

The louder Mrs. Whitney screamed, the more worked up she got, and suddenly she lunged and shoved Libby, who was right beside me.

"Little delinquent, you'll pay for my son's life!"

Libby stumbled from the shove and fell to the ground.

Her eyes went wide with terror, and a meaningless scream tore out of her throat.

Both hands clamped over her head, her whole body shaking hard.

The fury in me caught fire. I shoved Mrs. Whitney back and pulled Libby tight behind me.

"You touch her again and see what happens!"

Mrs. Whitney staggered back two steps, and her bodyguards moved in at once, closing around me.

"What, you want to hit people too? Everyone's watching. This shrew's about to get violent!"

She looked at me, gloating, and threw down her threat.

"I'm telling you, Irene, if you don't get on your knees today and kowtow to me three times, I'll make sure you don't walk out of this complex!"

I looked at her coldly.

"Mrs. Whitney, are you sure it was my daughter who hit your son?"

"Don't talk nonsense. My son told me himself, so it's true. It was that little bitch of yours!"

I nodded.

"Good. I hope you can be this righteous in court, when you're standing in front of the judge."

I picked Libby up off the ground and pushed past the bodyguard in front of me.

The bodyguard moved to grab me, but Mrs. Whitney gave a cold laugh and stopped them.

"Let her go!"

"She's a grasshopper in late autumn. She won't be hopping much longer!"

"Let's see how tough she stays once she's in court. I'll make her lose everything and beg me on her knees!"

I carried Libby home.

The moment we were inside, she wrenched free of my arms, burrowed into the corner of the couch, jammed a throw pillow over her head, and shook without stopping.

The ache of it felt like every organ inside me was bleeding.

I got the first-aid kit, gently drew out her little hand, and cleaned the cuts.

When the antiseptic touched the wound, she only flinched, and still made no sound of crying.

Because she didn't know how to cry out loud.

Aaron came out of the bedroom and looked at the state of us without a shred of pity.

"Look at the mess you've made. Now we can't even leave the house. Are you satisfied, Irene? Let's get divorced."

Aaron spat the words out cold, and said Libby was mine, the debt was mine.

"I won't let the two of you drag me down to my grave."

I looked at him, not surprised in the least.

"Fine. After the hearing tomorrow, I'll see you at the county clerk's office."

Aaron froze for a second, as if he hadn't expected me to agree so readily, then gave a cold snort, turned, and started packing.

Half an hour later, he walked out with his suitcase, without a single glance back at Libby.

I went to the window and looked down at Mrs. Whitney, still ranting below.

Go ahead, make your scene. The higher you climb, the harder you fall.