Chapter 246
I knew Jack had been influenced badly by Sarah, but I never imagined he could turn out this rotten.
That malice, that exclusion, that bullying disguised as pranks— they were all so blatant, so practiced.
How old is he?
Who did he learn this from?
And who enabled him?
That child who used to snuggle in my arms, who would sweetly call me mommy, who would share his favorite candies with me.
That child I spent six years raising, teaching him bit by bit to talk, to walk, to read, to be polite...
How did he become this bully on the screen, eyes full of malice, leading the charge in picking on the weak?
Sarah had only been back a few months, yet she'd completely destroyed what I'd built over six years.
I slowly crouched down and pulled Milly tightly into my arms.
Her body was stiff, her little hand still clutching my finger.
"Milly..." My voice was hoarse, my throat feeling blocked by something."I'm sorry, sweetie. Mommy hasn't been good. I've been too busy lately and ignored how you felt, leaving you to suffer through all this alone."
My eyes burned, the sting almost bringing tears.
I'm not someone who cries easily, especially not in front of George and Sarah.
But right now, looking at those silent yet cruel scenes on the screen, looking at Milly in my arms being so understanding that it broke my heart, the guilt and pain nearly drowned me.
Milly buried her little face in my neck, shook her head, and said softly, "Don't cry, Mommy. It doesn't hurt."
The more she said this, the worse I felt.
Just then, a cold voice came from above, like a bucket of ice water, instantly dousing the emotions churning inside me.
"You really should apologize."
George had somehow appeared beside us. He looked down at the two of us holding each other, his face still expressionless, only those deep eyes carrying a heavy chill.
"As a mother, you let your own child remain in a bullying situation for so long without noticing—that's your failure."
George's words were like a cold needle, stabbing precisely into my most painful spot.
I slowly stood up, keeping Milly behind me, and looked up at him.
The sadness and guilt I'd felt for Milly was instantly replaced by a cold anger.
Looking at this man I'd loved for years, given everything to maintain our marriage , I suddenly felt it was both laughable and pathetic.
I pulled at the corner of my mouth in a short, sarcastic laugh, "George, anyone in the world has the right to say that—except you."
My voice wasn't loud, but it was clear enough, carrying a kind of burn-the-bridges coldness.
Milly seemed to sense my mood and gripped my clothes even tighter.
George's brow furrowed almost imperceptibly, as if he hadn't expected me to challenge him so directly.
He looked at me with heavy eyes, or rather, at Milly peeking out from behind me.
"Now that we have clear evidence," I met his gaze without backing down, "I expect you to give Milly and me a proper explanation."
George was silent for a few seconds before speaking, his voice still flat."I'll give the child an answer."
He said "the child," keeping it vague—whether he meant Milly or included Jack too.
"But," he changed direction, his gaze returning coldly to my face, "Grace, you should also do some self-reflection."
Self-reflection?
I found it absurd, and almost wanted to laugh out loud.
"Reflect on what?" I shot back, my tone sharp, "I already apologized to Milly just now. I was negligent, didn't notice she was being bullied at kindergarten—that was my failure as a mother."
"What else do I need to reflect on? Don't tell me I should reflect on why I didn't raise Jack to be a kind and decent child?"
My gaze swept over the terrified principal, then back to George's cold face.
George acted as if he didn't hear the sarcasm in my words, or maybe he just didn't care.
He looked at me and said, clearly and coldly, word by word, "You do need to apologize to Jack."
I froze, doubting I'd heard correctly.
"What?" I almost squeezed the word through my teeth.
"Jack turning out like this—you bear undeniable responsibility." George's voice was as calm as if stating an objective fact, "You raised him. Your parenting methods, your example, directly influenced his behavior. Now that he has problems, if you don't reflect, who will?"
Looking at those bottomless eyes that never revealed true emotion, I felt it was ridiculous.
I found him disgusting.
As always, he was pinning all the blame on me.
Jack's bad grades—I didn't teach him well.
Jack's spoiled personality—I was too indulgent.
Jack not being close to him—I turned them against each other.
Now, Jack bullying classmates at kindergarten, lying constantly, dodging responsibility—that's my fault too?
My parenting is the problem?
What about his real mom, Sarah?
These past few months since she came back, her unlimited indulgence and influence on Jack—what's that?
Before, I didn't want to argue with this man because it was pointless.
But this time, I wasn't going to take it anymore.
"George," I heard my own voice, terrifyingly calm, "are you sick or something?"
George's pupils seemed to contract.
"You want me to apologize to Jack? Apologize for not raising him to be a proper bully over six years? Or apologize for not being able to keep influencing him after his real mom came back, so he wouldn't have changed so fast?"
I took a step forward, closer to him, close enough to see my own reflection in his eyes—a reflection with cold flames burning in it.
"In the six years I raised Jack, no matter how naughty he was, he had manners, knew boundaries, never deliberately picked on the weak, and never used foul language!"
My voice rose a bit, unable to suppress the anger, "He became what he is now—quick to anger, calling people bad women—who did he learn that from? Don't you know? Shouldn't you be asking Sarah what exactly she's been teaching Jack these past few months?"
The principal's face had turned paper-white. She'd probably never seen anyone dare talk to George like this and was too scared to even breathe loudly.
George's expression finally darkened, no longer that indifferent detachment, but covered with a layer of gloom.
He didn't immediately argue back, just looked at me heavily with those unfathomable eyes—a look containing scrutiny, displeasure, and perhaps a trace of anger at being called out, so faint even he might not have noticed it.
"If you want to protect Jack, I have nothing to say." I took a deep breath, forcefully pushing down the anger churning in my chest, but my voice grew even colder, "But Milly is also your daughter. You must give her an explanation! I won't let my daughter suffer this kind of bullying for nothing!"
I'd already made up my mind.
If George dared use the divorce agreement, use Milly's custody to threaten me into letting this go, I'd fight him to the bitter end.
I was going to get justice for Milly, no matter what!
Seeing the atmosphere freeze to the breaking point, the principal finally spoke up to mediate, "Mr. Smith, Ms. Brown, both of you calm down, please calm down."
"You're all family. Kids fighting is normal—just talk it out. Why make it so tense? It's not good for the children either."
Family?
I laughed coldly inside.
From the moment Sarah came back, from the moment George tacitly allowed her into our home, we stopped being family.
The principal's words were just trying to protect the kindergarten's reputation, afraid this would blow up.
"Principal," I interrupted her, my tone leaving no room for argument, "I don't need reconciliation. I just want justice."
The office fell silent again.
Only on the screen, that surveillance footage documenting the bullying kept playing on loop, like silent slaps hitting certain people's faces.
George was silent for a long time.
So long I thought he might storm out or use even harsher methods to suppress this.
He finally spoke, his voice colder than beforeand more direct—directly cruel, and said, "How much money will it take for you to drop this?"
Money.
Money again.
This is how he'd always dealt with me.
In a bad mood—here's a card.
Birthday, anniversary—here's a card.
Even when I miscarried and was hospitalized, he came to visit once and left behind a card.
As if all emotions, all debts, all problems could be smoothed over with money.
Before, I didn't care, or rather, I'd gone numb.
Figured getting money was at least better than getting nothing.
But now, hearing George say this in such a casual tone, I laughed.
I really laughed.
Laughed until my eyes stung a little.