She Maxed Out My Fortune, Then Ended Up in Handcuffs

After paying the tuition, I had just stepped out of the office when a commotion in the corridor stopped me cold.

A small crowd had formed.

In the middle of it, a girl stood with an air of arrogance—flanked by a group of well-dressed girls—mocking and jeering.

And there, cornered against the wall like a wounded bird, was my daughter.

Her face was streaked with tears, a red handprint burning on her cheek. She looked small, broken, and utterly alone.

"Didn’t I tell you to get lost?" the ringleader snapped, grabbing her collar. "You’ve got some nerve showing your face here."

"Believe it or not, I’ll beat you to death today!"

A few girls laughed cruelly and one even spat on her.

My daughter trembled, hands clutched against her chest, whispering through choked sobs.

“Please… don’t hit me. My mom’s here… Please…”

“Please me?” The leading girl laughed and raised her leg, pressing her shoe forward.

“Then lick my soles clean. Do that, and maybe I’ll let you crawl away.”

The others burst into laughter.

“Did you hear that? Our Miss Su is merciful.”

“You think you can compete with Savannah? You couldn’t even afford tuition—just drop out already!”

Two girls grabbed Amanda’s arms and tried to force her to her knees. Her face twisted in shame and fury, but she didn’t resist. She simply closed her eyes, defeated.

“Don’t make me slap you again,” Savannah snapped, lifting her hand high.

I moved.

In an instant, I seized her wrist mid-air—and with a sharp crack, slapped her across the face.

The corridor went silent.

“Whose child are you?” I hissed. “What kind of parents raise a little thug like you?”

“This is a school, not a gang hideout. Act like a human being.”

Savannah didn’t cower. She lifted her chin, eyes burning with disdain.

“Do you even know who I am?” she scoffed. “In Ridgeport, no one dares to lay a finger on me. You just slapped me—you’re dead. I’ll tell my dad and have you kicked out of this city.”

What a big mouth. I laughed coldly.

“Oh? And who is your dad?”

Before she could answer, I felt a tug on my sleeve. My daughter’s voice came in a whisper.

“Mom… her dad is… Dad. Graham Wyatt.”

Graham?

If Amanda hadn’t reminded me, I’d nearly forgotten that man even existed.

Savannah puffed her chest with pride.

“Now you get it? Go ask anyone—my dad adores me. You think you can touch me and walk away?”

That’s when the pieces finally fell into place.

In the two years I’d been abroad, Graham not only brought Clarissa and her daughter into our home—he raised Savannah like a princess… and erased my daughter like she never existed.

He made sure Clarissa’s child called him Dad.

And mine? He denied her in public, neglected her in private.

No wonder Savannah walked around as if she owned Ridgeport.

But what they all forgot… was that the Blake family is not to be trampled on.

I turned back to my daughter, helped her to her feet, and brushed the dirt from her clothes.

With gentleness in my voice, I asked, “Tell Mom—how many times did she slap you?”

Amanda trembled, eyes darting between the girls.

She hesitated.

“Don’t be scared,” I said, wrapping an arm around her. “Mom is here now. You’ll never be bullied again.”

She finally raised her head. “Six times…”

I nodded. Calm. Certain.

“Then slap her back—six times.”

Her eyes widened. “Mom, I… I don’t dare…”

I crouched beside her and looked at her in the eyes.

“There’s nothing to fear anymore. Anyone who tries to stop you—Mom will break their legs.”