My Identity Exposed, Billionaire’s Wife Cried

Brandon’s father luxuriated in the moment, every inch of him radiating arrogance.

He lifted his chin and strode up to me, haughty: “Feel that? In this world, the gap between people is bigger than the gap between people and dogs!”

“A deadbeat freeloader like you will never be acceptable — you’ll spend your life groveling for a woman’s scraps, waiting for her to toss you a few crumbs.”

“As for me, the real husband, I enjoy honors you’ll never touch.”

“I’ll give you one day. Get your worthless son and get out of this city. If I ever see you pestering my wife again, I’ll bury that little bastard you spawned alive!”

At his words, my son trembled and crawled into my arms.

“Daddy, I’m so scared. My foot hurts so much…”

His voice was full of raw terror and pain.

I took off my son’s little leather boot and saw, to my horror, that one of his toes was missing.

The wound was grotesque. Blood pooled inside the boot.

My heart shot with pain; my eyes burned red.

I couldn’t imagine how my son — who’s always been so sensitive to pain — had endured this without making a sound until now.

I glared at Brandon’s father. “Your son did this?”

He glanced at me and said coldly, “What’s the fuss? I’d be doing you a favor if my boy had finished that little bastard off.”

“You monster!”

I instinctively raised my hand, intending to strike Brandon’s father hard.

In the end, though, my hand froze in midair.

My Commanding Officer had repeatedly warned me: it’s one thing to be ruthless with enemies, but if you unleash that on ordinary civilians the consequences can be fatal. Don’t act recklessly.

Seeing me hesitate, Brandon’s father sneered and shoved his face close to mine, taunting: “Go on — hit me. See if you’ve got the guts to hit the husband of New York’s richest!”

I ignored his provocation, knelt down, tore a corner from my own shirt, and silently wrapped my son’s injured toe.

“You coward!”

“You won’t hit me, but I’ll teach you a lesson!”

Brandon’s father shouted, turning to the other parents gathered there: “Teach this trash a lesson — whoever does it the best will become a long-term partner of the Stone family!”

On cue, the parents who’d already been hostile toward me surged forward, fists and boots flying. Some even whipped me with belts.

“Trying to mess with Brandon’s dad? He’s the husband of the richest woman — what right do you, a worthless freeloader, have?!”

“It’s just one toe. He didn’t kill the kid, so why are you acting like it’s the end of the world?”

“Being disciplined by Master Brandon is a blessing for that trash. With your lowborn genes, what could you possibly produce? If he dies under the beating, he deserves it.”

Even Ms. Carter kicked me disdainfully. To keep my son from more harm, I hugged him to my chest with all my strength.

“Don’t hit my daddy!” my son cried.

A chubby boy spat an insult at us: “Trash like you, poor and useless, deserve to be taught a lesson!”

Ms. Carter patted the chubby boy’s head and praised him with a smile: “Brandon has always stood up for justice — well done. I’ll praise you in front of the entire school tomorrow and give you an award!”

Brandon narrowed his eyes into a pleased slant: “Hmph. I’m just doing what I should. I’ll beat that little trash every time I see him!”