Chapter 1Unspoken Apologies

My mom once dumped the richest man in our city.

Eight years later, I beat up his son. My teacher forced my mom to get on her knees and beg for forgiveness.

The billionaire pushed open the classroom door and froze. "I used to treat you like a princess, terrified you'd melt if I didn't hold you tight enough. And you're on your f***ing knees?"

"Sarah, whose pride are you trashing right now?"

* * *

I never had a dad. I didn't even know any of my extended family.

As long as I could remember, it was just my mom raising me.

She worked the night shift at a convenience store and often came home very late.

So, she asked our neighbor, Mrs. Higgins, to add an extra plate for me when she made dinner for her own granddaughter.

It wasn’t a handout, of course. My mom paid Mrs. Higgins for my meals every month.

But Mrs. Higgins would take that money and turn around to buy me milk and fresh fruit.

She constantly sighed about how hard my mom worked and told me not to tell her about the extra treats.

I’d nod, and she’d praise me for being such a good girl.

Honestly, I just felt that if I was good, it would make things a little easier for my mom.

At school, I was the most invisible kid in the class.

I paid attention during lessons, but I never raised my hand or showed off.

My classmates called me the "Little Mute" because they thought I didn't like to talk.

The truth was, I just liked listening to them talk.

In third grade, the most popular topic of conversation was everyone's families.

Some kids would broadcast everything—from their dad’s hemorrhoids to their mom fighting off his mistress.

There was a boy in my class named Connor Hayes. He was a new transfer student, and he constantly complained about his CEO dad.

He said his dad had a temper like a rabid dog and a face as cold as a widower.

He said his dad never had time for him; it was just drivers and nannies at home every day.

He said his dad only cared about money. For his birthday, he just had his secretary drop off a black Amex card.

...

Long story short, he hated his dad.

But I envied him for having one.

I didn't know why, but out of all the kids in class, I wanted to be close to Connor the most.

Because I didn't have a dad, and rumor had it, Connor didn't have a mom.

In a way, we were the same kind of different.

One day, while we were lining up to go home, Connor was complaining about how terrible his dad’s cooking was.

I couldn't help but chime in: "My mom makes really good desserts."

If he just talked to me, I thought, I could bring him some of my mom's desserts.

But Connor turned his head and glared at me viciously. "What's that supposed to mean?"

I looked at him, confused.

"You're making fun of me for not having a mom, right?"

Connor shoved me hard, his face twisted in anger.

I fell hard onto the pavement. While I was still in shock, my homeroom teacher, Ms. Evans, yelled from behind:

"Chloe! Are you blind? You're ruining the line formation! Get up right now!"

I had no choice but to slowly pick myself up and brush the dirt off my clothes.

Ever since I spoke to Connor that day after school, I inexplicably became the thorn in his and his little posse's side.

Every time he walked past my desk, he’d pinch my arm through my shirt.

If we crossed paths in the hallway, he’d purposely ram his shoulder into mine.

Not to mention, he was always surrounded by a gang of followers. Every time I walked by, they would yell out of nowhere:

"Chloe, the Little Mute, what a loser." Then they'd make weird, mocking noises with their mouths.

I gathered my courage and decided to tell the teacher.

However, when I went to Ms. Evans's office, she was sitting cross-legged, holding her phone. I didn't know who she was talking to, but it was "Mr. Hayes" this and "Mr. Hayes" that, and her whole face was lit up with a smile.

I stood at the door for ten minutes, and she didn't even notice me.

The bell rang. The next period was English.

I had no choice but to go back to class.

Our English teacher had assigned an essay that day. The prompt was: "My Father."

I didn't know how to start, so I sat there staring at a blank page for the entire period.

The sky outside was an ashy gray, looking like it was about to rain, making everyone feel gloomy.

Connor, however, was ecstatic. He announced to the whole class that his dad was coming to pick him up today.

When school let out, it started pouring.

In a cruel twist of irony, out of the entire massive school campus, Connor and I were the only two kids left without anyone to pick us up.

The security guard brought us into the guardhouse.

Connor looked furious. He kept yelling into his smartwatch:

"I don't care! I don't want to hear your excuses! You have to come get me!"

Then he dropped his wrist and started stomping the floor violently, thump-thump-thump.

I thought he looked like an angry, unreasonable little monkey.

I don't know how much time passed, but the Hayes family's driver finally appeared outside the guardhouse.

"I don't want you. Where is my dad?!" The little tyrant threw a tantrum at the driver outside the window.

Looking troubled, the driver made a phone call. Not long after, a tall man holding a massive black umbrella walked over at an unhurried pace.

The sky was still dark, and the wind was howling outside—

Although the umbrella obscured his face, you could tell from his straight, imposing posture that he possessed a calm confidence, unafraid of any storm.

Connor jumped up, rushed out of the guardhouse, and threw himself toward the man.

The man reached out a single hand and effortlessly caught Connor by the collar of his jacket, stopping him mid-air.

It was a hand that looked powerful and safe—large, with pronounced knuckles. It looked exactly like a father's hand should.

The man set Connor down. Holding the umbrella with one hand, he tilted it so it mostly covered Connor.

Then, without hesitation, he smacked the back of Connor's head.

It was a crisp, solid thwack, like slapping a ripe watermelon. I stared, a little dazed.

Connor didn't mind. Instead, he suddenly turned around and shot me a smug, gloating smile.

"Loser." He taunted me with a funny face. "Have fun waiting by yourself!"