His Wicked Obsession (Archer and Virginia) novel Chapter 224

Mrs. Preston instantly went into full defense mode, shielding her son entirely. "Really, Ms. Lane? Kids get into little squabbles all the time. Was it really necessary to drag us all the way down here?"

She rolled her eyes at the still-sniffling Cynthia.

"Mrs. Preston, Cynthia's arm was injured during the incident, which is why we..."

"It's just a scrape, hardly a life-or-death crisis." Mrs. Preston sneered as she sized up Cynthia's simple cotton dress and unbranded shoes, turning a pitying, condescending gaze toward Virginia. "How much do you want? We'll just write you a check."

Virginia kept a protective hand on Cynthia's shoulder, her eyes locked calmly onto the other woman.

"I don't need your money. I just want an apology."

"An apology!?" Mrs. Preston scoffed as if she had just heard the funniest joke in the world. "He's just a child and didn't mean any harm. Why the hell should he apologize?"

She began rummaging aggressively through her designer handbag.

Virginia frowned, her voice steady and composed.

"Because your son pulled my daughter's hair, causing her to fall and hurt herself."

It was perfectly normal for kids to be rowdy; the real problem was how insufferable their parents were.

Mr. Preston looked Virginia up and down with open disdain. "Why are you being so difficult!? What, trying to squeeze a bigger payout out of us?"

"..."

Mrs. Preston paused her rummaging and shot Virginia a nasty smirk. "Well, I suppose being a single mom must be tough. No wonder you're trying to milk us dry. Go ahead, name your price."

Virginia's face darkened instantly.

She had endured endless judgment raising Cynthia on her own over the years, but she was so used to the malicious gossip that it barely bothered her anymore.

But Cynthia was older now, and hearing these vicious insults right in front of her would definitely scar the sensitive little girl.

Strictly speaking, it was far more than just recognizing him. Over sixty percent of his supply chain company's revenue came directly from the Vanderbilt Group.

Archer didn't so much as spare him a glance. He walked straight over to Cynthia and crouched down, placing his large hands gently onto the little girl's shoulders.

His voice was cool but carried an unmistakable warmth as he declared, "I'm here to pick up my daughter."

The moment his eyes landed on the angry red scrape on the little girl's arm, his brows furrowed sharply, and the temperature in the room plummeted to freezing.

"What happened to her?"

Those few words made Mr. Preston's pupils constrict in pure horror. The color completely drained from his face, turning an absolute sickening shade of pale. This little girl was Archer Vanderbilt's daughter.

He quickly wiped his face and suddenly whirled around to face Brighton, viciously slapping his chubby cheek.

"You little brat! Apologize to her right now!"