Chapter 2
I walked to the front of the podium.
It didn't stop.
Isabella shrank back by the podium, trying to move back, but her body seemed rooted to the spot. Her lips trembled, as if she wanted to say something, but only a weak, gasp escaped her throat.
My shadow fell on her.
Her pupils began to dilate.
"You—you mustn't—"
She finally managed to squeeze out half a sentence.
His voice trembled as if it were about to shatter.
I glanced down at her.
They didn't say anything.
She collapsed.
She slid to the ground like a limp rag, her legs sprawling out, her business suit crumpled into a mess. The stench of urine wafted from beneath her, leaving a damp stain on the expensive wooden floor.
Screams came from the back row.
"You lowly bastard!"
Mrs. Victoria stood up abruptly, her teacup shattering on the floor, shards of porcelain scattering everywhere. Her face flushed crimson, and her large body trembled.
She was scared for a moment just now.
My legs felt weak, my heart was pounding so hard it felt like it was going to explode, and my fingers were numb.
But she couldn't admit it.
Five years ago, she was a nouveau riche who owned a nail salon, a laughing stock in the industry. It took her five years and millions of dollars to squeeze into the parents' circle at Saint Miracle Academy. At every parent-teacher meeting, she sat in the front row, wore her most expensive clothes, and spoke the most politely.
Just to make those old aristocrats think she was "qualified".
Everyone saw what just happened.
She and her son were terrified like quails by a butcher wearing a blood-stained coat .
This is a fucking disgrace.
She glanced at the ladies around her—their eyes were full of schadenfreude, as if they were watching her misfortune unfold.
no.
We absolutely cannot let this piece of trash from the bottom of society just walk out like that.
Do you know who I am?!
She screamed at the top of her lungs, her voice trembling with a high-pitched shrillness.
"A VIP member of the Scarlet Club! I have people in the City Council! You fucking—"
I didn't even turn my head.
He stood there by the podium, slowly and deliberately squatting down.
Emilia was still kneeling on the ground, her little hands clutching the scraps of paper, her fingertips red from being rubbed raw. She looked up at me, her eyes swollen like walnuts, tears still clinging to her eyelashes.
"dad……"
Her voice was so soft it was almost inaudible.
"I can't get it back."
I reached out and touched her hair.
"fine."
I picked up the scattered pieces one by one.
The movements are very slow.
It looked like they were picking up something priceless.
I carefully aligned the edges of the paper with the bear pattern that was broken in two and stacked them together. I wiped the papers with shoe prints on them with my sleeve. I bent down and pried the corner of the paper that Isabella had stepped on and crushed from under her high heels.
He stuffed them all into his coat pocket.
It was mixed with the fishy smell of pig's blood.
"Are you fucking deaf?!"
Victoria's voice was shrill, like fingernails scratching a blackboard.
Her face turned even redder, and the veins in her neck bulged out.
The butcher was ignoring her.
In front of everyone, he treated her like she wasn't there.
She sensed it—the wealthy women in the back row were suppressing their laughter. The woman with the pearl necklace even took out her phone.
This matter will spread throughout the entire industry tomorrow.
"Victoria was terrified by a butcher."
Her nail salon, her membership cards, the network she built up over five years—it's all going to be ruined.
I'm talking to you! You—
I stood up.
He took his daughter's cold little hand in his.
He turned and walked towards the door.
"stop!"
Victoria rushed into the corridor and blocked their way.
Her large body blocked half the doorway, the gold necklace around her neck jingling loudly. Her chest heaved violently, and she panted like a bulldog.
She had to stop him.
We can't let him just walk out like that.
"I told you to stop right there!"
I lifted my eyelids to look at her.
I only glanced at it.
Her voice was stuck in her throat.
The color drained from her face little by little.
Her heavily made-up face turned deathly pale, and fine beads of cold sweat seeped from beneath the foundation. Her mouth was agape, like a fish out of water, her chest heaving violently but unable to take a single breath.
The instinct is to scream and run.
The bloodline is wailing, run!
But her mind was still racing—she couldn't move aside, absolutely not, five years of hard work couldn't be ruined today.
Two seconds later.
Her legs went weak, and she stepped aside.
The body is more honest than the brain.
I walked past her, holding my daughter's hand.
The leather boots clattered on the marble floor of the corridor, their footsteps echoing through the empty space. The classroom behind them was deathly silent; not even a breath could be heard.
Victoria stood leaning against the wall.
My legs were still trembling, and my knees were so weak I almost knelt down.
She heard it—a suppressed chuckle coming from the classroom.
The ladies were laughing at her.
The humiliation felt like a bucket of ice water being poured over my head.
She whirled around, rushed back to the classroom, and picked up her shattered phone from the floor. The screen was cracked, but it still worked.
Her fingers trembled as she dialed a number.
"Hello, it's me."
Her voice was shrill and urgent.
"I want you to expel that bitch Emilia from Holy Relic Academy right now, immediately! Get her out of this city!"
What was said on the other end of the phone?
Her complexion improved slightly.
"besides--"
She gritted her teeth, her eyes as vicious as a snake's.
"Send a few men to keep watch downstairs at her house. I want that butcher to know what happens when he offends me, Victoria."
Emilia trotted alongside me.
She looked up at me, her eyes still red, but she didn't cry anymore.
"dad."
She said in a low voice.
Are they very afraid of you?
I didn't answer.
Pushing open the school's glass doors, a night breeze rushed in, carrying the chill of early spring. In the parking lot, a beat-up Ford pickup truck sat in a corner, its body rusted and its rearview mirror taped shut.
The cars parked around were all Mercedes-Benz and BMWs.
My car looks like a pile of garbage.
I opened the passenger door, and Emilia climbed in. It took her two tries to fasten her seatbelt. I went around to the driver's seat and turned the key.
The engine emitted a rough, hoarse roar.
Like a wild beast about to breathe its last.
"dad."
Emilia gripped the seatbelt tightly.
Why don't you beat them up?
I shifted into gear and stepped on the gas.
The pickup truck made a screeching metallic scraping sound as it slowly drove out of the parking space.
Beyond the windshield, the school lights gradually faded into the distance.
" Violence solves nothing. I'll have a serious talk with your principal tomorrow. "
I said.
In the rearview mirror.
The Gothic spires of the Sacred Relics Academy are getting smaller and smaller.
