Chapter 169

Serena's POV

Tommy and the other boys doubled over laughing, their fingers pointing at Milo like weapons. "What a bastard!" they jeered, their voices echoing off the locker room walls.

Behind me, I could feel Milo's small body trembling. The sound of his muffled sobs tore through my heart, each hitched breath like a knife. I clenched my fists. Something deep inside me shifted - a primal, protective rage.

"Watch your mouth," I said quietly, my voice carrying a warning.

But she was too far gone in her own spite to hear it. "Like mother, like son. No wonder the kid has no manners if this is his role model."

Others in the room - parents who had drifted in during the commotion - began muttering. I caught fragments of their whispers, each one designed to cut:

"Those Sinclair women..."

"...always in some scandal..."

"Poor child, with a mother like that..."

I had weathered countless attacks in the corporate world, but this was different. This wasn't about business - this was about a child. About Milo.

"You know nothing about me or this child," I said, containing my anger. "But I know exactly what you are - a woman who raised her son to be a bully and coward."

A man stepped forward then, probably Tommy's father, his face red with anger.

My fingers twitched at my side as rage coursed through me, hot and electric. Something in his entitled swagger, the way he puffed up his chest like he owned the room - it was the last straw.

"How dare you-"

The slap echoed through the locker room. His head snapped to the side, a red mark blooming on his cheek.

"Since you failed to teach your child," I said into the stunned silence, "I'll teach him this lesson instead. Parents who fail to teach their children must bear the consequences."

The room erupted in chaos. Tommy's mother screamed something about assault, while his father recovered enough to advance menacingly toward me. The crowd pressed closer, the space suddenly feeling like a cage.

The situation was spiraling out of control faster than I could have anticipated. Tommy's father lunged forward, snatching my phone from my hand before I could react. The device clattered somewhere behind him, lost in the growing crowd of onlookers who had gathered to watch the spectacle.

"Not so powerful without your connections, are you?" he sneered, taking another step closer. His expression was even more menacing.

I backed up instinctively, guiding Milo behind me until we hit the cold metal of the lockers. The crowd had effectively blocked any path to the exit, and the air in the room felt increasingly thick and suffocating.

"Get on your knees and apologize to my wife," Tommy's father demanded, his voice echoing off the tiled walls. "Or else!"

"I don't negotiate with bullies," I replied, keeping my voice steady despite the rapid beating of my heart. "Whether they're children or adults."

His face contorted with rage. "You think you're so tough? Let's see how tough you are now." He cracked his knuckles menacingly, and I felt Milo trembling against my back.

I had faced countless boardroom battles, hostile takeovers, and corporate threats, but this was different. This wasn't about business or money - this was raw, physical intimidation.

"The only person who should be apologizing is you," I said, trying to buy time while frantically searching for a way out. "For raising a son who thinks violence is the answer to losing fair and square."

Tommy's mother let out a shrill laugh. "Look who's talking about violence! Didn't you just slap my husband?"

"That was a lesson in parental responsibility," I shot back, though I was beginning to regret that impulsive action now that the situation had escalated so dramatically.

Then something unexpected happened. Milo - small, brave Milo - stepped in front of me, his arms spread wide.

"Don't touch her!" his young voice rang out, trembling but determined.

My heart clenched. This child, who minutes ago had been a victim himself, was now trying to protect me. The pure, innocent courage of it hit me like a physical force.

"My dad is Lucas Harrington!"

Tommy's father laughed cruelly. "Your dad? Who do you think you are, kid?"

The words hung in the air like a thunderclap. I felt my breath catch in my throat as I watched the impact of this revelation ripple through the crowd. The muttering grew louder, more speculative.

Tommy's father's face twisted into something ugly. "Lucas Harrington? What a joke!" He took another menacing step forward. "A woman like her with Lucas Harrington? Keep dreaming, kid. Look at your mother - nothing but a gold-digging whore who-"

"I said STOP!" Milo's shout was fierce. He spread his arms wide, making himself as big as possible while standing in front of me. "You can't hurt her!"

Time seemed to slow down. I could see Tommy's father's hand rising, his face contorted with rage. Milo was too close, too exposed.

"NO!" The cry tore from my throat as I lunged forward, desperately trying to pull Milo into my arms, but I knew I wouldn't make it in time.

"I really wouldn't do that if I were you."

A familiar voice cut through the tension like a knife. Deep, authoritative, and absolutely furious.