The Billionaire's Bought Bride and Instant Mom Chapter 80

Aveline

The words hit me like a sledgehammer to the chest. White-hot rage exploded through my veins, so fierce and sudden it took my breath away. I'd never felt anything like it—this primal, protective fury that made my hands shake and my vision blur at the edges.

It was as if someone had attacked my own child. The intensity of my reaction shocked me, but there was no time to analyze it. This sweet, innocent boy had been torn apart by the cruelest words imaginable, and someone was going to pay for it.

"Oh, sweetheart," I whispered, pulling him closer as tears of my own threatened to spill over. "Those are the most horrible lies I've ever heard. Mike was wrong to say those things, and he's going to learn that his words have consequences."

"But what if—" Ryan started.

"No," I said firmly, tilting his chin up so he had to look at me. "Listen to me very carefully. You are not a bastard. You are not unwanted. You are loved, and you are precious, and anyone who says otherwise is lying."

Ryan nodded, though his eyes were still red and puffy from crying.

"I need you to stay right here in my office," I continued, smoothing down his hair. "Don't come out no matter what you hear, okay? I'm going to handle this situation."

But before Ryan could respond, the sound of raised voices erupted from the hallway outside. Through the office door, I could hear angry shouting, the kind that suggested a major confrontation was brewing.

"I don't care if his father is Orion Blackwell!" a man's voice boomed. "I don't care if his daddy's the mayor or the goddamn president! That little brat hurt my son, and I'm going to teach him a lesson he won't forget!"

My blood turned to ice. They were talking about Ryan.

"Stay here," I ordered, pointing at the chair behind my desk. "Do not move until I come back for you."

I quickly checked my reflection in the small mirror on my desk, smoothing my hair and straightening my blouse. Whatever was about to happen, I needed to look composed and professional.

The scene in the hallway was exactly as chaotic as I'd expected. A crowd had gathered around a middle-aged man who was red-faced and shouting, his belt straining against his considerable belly. His wife stood beside him, clutching their son—Mike—against her chest while several other teachers tried unsuccessfully to calm the situation.

I walked toward them with measured steps, my voice carrying clearly down the hallway.

"Please keep your voices down," I said firmly. "This is a school environment. If there's an issue to discuss, we can sit down and handle it like civilized adults."

The angry father turned toward me, his small eyes narrowing with recognition.

"You!" he spat, pointing a thick finger in my direction. "You're the teacher who's protecting that little monster! Where is he? I want him out here right now so he can apologize to my boy!"

"I understand you're upset," I said, keeping my voice calm and professional. "But these matters are handled through proper channels, not by parents storming into the school making demands. Additionally, if you want to discuss apologies, perhaps we should start by asking whether your son said something inappropriate to provoke this incident."

The man's face turned an even deeper shade of red. "Are you suggesting my Mike did something wrong? He's the victim here!"

"I'm suggesting," I said, taking a step closer, "that five-year-olds don't typically resort to violence without provocation. So perhaps you should ask your son exactly what he said before Ryan reacted."

"You listen here, lady," the man snarled, his voice getting louder and more aggressive. "I know who you think you are, playing favorites because that kid's daddy has money. But I've got news for you—plenty of us parents have connections too. I'm being nice because you're a woman, but my patience is running out."

I felt my jaw clench, but I forced myself to remain calm. "Sir, if you continue to disrupt our educational environment, I'll have no choice but to call security."

That's when his wife stepped forward, her voice dripping with malicious satisfaction.

"Oh, honey," she said to her husband with fake sweetness, "let's just transfer Mike tomorrow. I told you this teacher was trouble from day one. All those rumors about her... well, let's just say they're obviously true."

"What rumors?" I demanded, my professional composure beginning to crack.

The man grinned, a ugly expression that made my skin crawl. "Oh, you know exactly what rumors, sweetheart. About what kind of woman spreads her legs for her student's daddy. We all know what you really are."

The words hit me like a slap across the face. Around us, I could hear other parents murmuring, some looking shocked, others nodding like they'd suspected as much all along.

"I'm warning you," I said, my voice low and dangerous, "to watch your mouth."

"Or what?" the man laughed. "What's a little slut like you going to do about it? Face it, lady—everyone knows you're just Orion Blackwell's latest piece of ass."

My hand flew up instinctively, but he caught my wrist before I could slap him.

"Tsk, tsk," he said mockingly. "Is that how you solve all your problems? With violence? No wonder you're defending that little bastard in there. You and Ryan are perfect for each other—both trash."