Chapter 168

Serena's POV

Something was wrong.

I'd been waiting outside the locker room for far too long. Stella shifted restlessly beside me, her small hand tightening around mine. The swimming competition had ended fifteen minutes ago, and while other children had emerged from the changing rooms, there was still no sign of Milo.

"Should we check on him?" Stella whispered.

Before I could answer, a muffled thud echoed from behind the door, followed by cruel laughter. My heart stumbled.

"Stay here," I ordered Stella, already moving. "Don't come in, no matter what."

I pushed through the door, the heavy chlorine scent hitting me first. Then I saw them - three boys surrounding a smaller figure on the floor. Milo lay crumpled beside an overturned garbage can, his wet hair plastered with bits of trash. Water mixed with something darker trickled down his temple.

The world narrowed to a pinpoint of fury.

"STEP. AWAY. FROM. HIM." Each word dropped like ice into the humid air.

The boys spun around, their smug expressions faltering as they registered my presence. Their faces hadn't appear fear. The tallest - probably thirteen or fourteen - recovered first, plastering on an innocent smile that made my fingers itch.

"We were just playing around, ma'am." That dismissive response made my blood boil. I wanted to grab them, to kick them until they understood the magnitude of their cruelty.

"Playing?" The word tasted like poison. I crossed the distance in three steps, positioning myself between them and Milo. "Is this what passes for play in your household? Assaulting smaller children?"

My hands clenched involuntarily, the urge to slap both of them rising hot and fast. But seeing Milo's small figure nearby made me pause and take a deep breath. Violence wasn't the answer, especially not in front of a child. More importantly, I needed to check if Milo was hurt.

"Milo, honey." I kept my voice steady despite the rage thundering through my veins. "Can you look at me?"

He raised his head slowly, and my heart clenched. His left eye was already swelling, and there was a nasty scrape along his jawline. But it was the shame in his eyes that made me want to tear the room apart.

"I... I won the race," he whispered. "They said... said I cheated."

"It's okay, sweetheart," I whispered, my voice trembling as I knelt beside Milo. My hands shook as I pulled out my phone, forcing myself to document everything. Each photo felt like another stab to my heart, but I knew I needed evidence.

"Because there's no way a kid like him could beat us fair and square," one of the other boys sneered. "Everyone knows his dad probably bought the judges."

The door burst open before I could respond. A woman in athleisure wear strode in, her perfectly highlighted hair swinging. "Tommy? What's taking so long? We have your victory dinner reservations..."

She trailed off, taking in the scene. Her carefully lined eyes narrowed. "What's going on here?"

"Your son and his friends just assaulted a younger child," I said, my voice arctic. "I have photos. Would you like to see them before or after I call the police?"

"Assault? Don't be ridiculous." She waved a manicured hand. "Boys will be boys. I'm sure whatever happened was just harmless roughhousing."

"Harmless?" I helped Milo to his feet, steadying him when he swayed. "Look at him. Really look. Is this what you consider harmless?"

Two more parents arrived, drawn by the commotion. The excuses began flowing immediately - it must have been a misunderstanding, kids fight all the time, surely Milo had provoked them somehow.

"He cheated in the race," Tommy insisted, emboldened by his mother's presence. "That's why we taught him a lesson."

"Taught him a lesson?" The words felt like glass in my throat. "The only lesson here is what your parents have apparently failed to teach you about basic human decency."

"Now see here," Tommy's mother stepped forward, all pretense of politeness gone. "My son is a champion swimmer. He doesn't need to cheat to win, unlike some people who clearly bought their way-"

"Finish that sentence." My voice could have frozen hell itself. "Please, finish explaining how a child winning fairly deserves to be assaulted. I'm fascinated to hear your rationalization."

She faltered, finally seeming to register the dangerous edge in my tone. One of the other mothers tugged at her arm. "Catherine, maybe we should-"

"Should what? Let them get away with slandering my Tommy?" She jerked away. "These new money types always think they can push their way in where they don't belong. Well, I've been on the board of this club for fifteen years, and I can tell you-"

"Wait a minute," she said, her voice dripping with false recognition. "You're Serena Sinclair, aren't you? The one all over the business news lately?" Her lips curved into a cruel smile. "I didn't know you had a son. Who's the father of this bastard?"