Clutching my aching head, I looked up—only to lock eyes with Tommy. There he stood in a tailored designer suit I had personally picked out, looking every bit the polished gentleman—yet his eyes were full of contempt.
“Danny Wilson, are you really this desperate? We told you not to come and yet here you are, sneaking in to freeload like a stray dog.”
The three cronies standing beside Tommy all looked at me with sneers of pure disdain.
“You know where you are, right? This is the Wilson Family estate—the richest family in the country. A broke hillbilly like you doesn’t belong here.”
“Look at that flashy outfit, like some male escort. Bet he came here to seduce Miss Wilson and ruin the engagement party on purpose.”
“Exactly! This piece of trash even had the nerve to call Miss Wilson his ‘sweet girl.’ She’s the most prized successor in the Wilson Family—who the hell do you think you are?!”
I clenched my jaw and snapped back. “Calling her ‘sweet girl’ was me doing her a favor. If she had any sense, she’d be grinning in her sleep from the honor.”
Truth was, back when she was desperate for my approval, Sandra tried everything to get on my good side. She played the perfect little angel, just to win my favor.
And when I was in a good mood, I treated her like a younger relative—affectionate, but distant. I kissed her on the forehead, like a proud older brother.
She was over the moon. She even posted it online to show off. But Tommy saw it... and decided I was trying to steal his girl. That’s when the nightmare began.
He started a two-year campaign of bullying. He planted thumbtacks in my basketball shoes, stuffed pornographic cards in my desk drawer and poured industrial glue on my chair. He even spread filthy rumors online—claiming I seduced middle-aged teachers for money, saying one of them scrubbed my back with a steel wool brush.
Thanks to him, my name at school was garbage. I reported it over and over again. But every time, the school brushed it off with a forced apology from him, like that would fix everything.
Then, he crossed the line—he brought the fight to my home.
“I’m Sandra’s great–grandf..”
I didn’t even get to finish the sentence.
Tommy grabbed the soup pot in front of me and poured it over my head.
“Ahhh!”