When he saw me sitting on the bench in one piece, the tension drained from his shoulders.
"I'll post her bail. I'm covering the deposit."
Outside the station, I thanked him properly.
"Thank you. I'll transfer the deposit back to you as soon as I get home."
Reginald looked at me, speechless for a moment, a flicker of disappointment crossing his face.
"Your arm needs to be treated too. Let me take you to the hospital first."
The words had barely left his mouth when his phone rang.
Fiona's voice came through, teary and sweet, dripping with helplessness.
"Reggie, my little nephew got bullied at school."
"His parents are out of town on business. Can you come stand up for us? Please?"
Just like that, Reginald forgot about me and my blood-soaked arm. He jumped in his car and sped off.
The exhaust fumes hit me so hard I couldn't stop coughing.
I pulled my gaze back in silence, figuring I'd find a pharmacy for some burn cream and bandages.
My phone rang.
The teacher's voice on the other end was stern.
"Is this Moira Walker's parent?"
"Moira's been involved in an incident at school. We need you to come in."
I didn't even have time to treat my wound. I rushed straight to the school.
When I pushed open the office door, my daughter was standing alone in the corner.
Across from her, a little boy was being cradled like a treasure, shielded on all sides.
He poked his head out and spat at my daughter, pulling a face.
"Nyeh nyeh nyeh, you don't have a daddy! You're a bastard!"
"Your mom's a used-up tramp nobody wants, and when you grow up, you'll be a little tramp too!"
The air left my lungs. I pulled Moira into my arms and pressed my hands over her ears.
I was about to ask what kind of parents raised a child to talk like that.
Then I looked up and met Reginald's eyes.
The expression on his face was complicated.
That was when I saw clearly who was shielding that little boy.
It wasn't strangers.
It was Reginald and Fiona.
Fiona pulled the boy closer, her voice trembling with practiced grievance.
"Hailey, if you resent me for accidentally calling you 'ma'am' that one time, or for stealing Reggie away from you, I'll apologize. Go ahead, hit me, yell at me, I can take it."
"But if you're angry, come at me. How could you put your own daughter up to attacking my nephew?"
The resolve in my daughter's expression wavered.