The boys looming over Liam were nothing like the others.

They didn't just team up to mock him—they shoved him around whenever they felt like it.

Liam never stood a chance against their numbers.

Watching Oliver walk away, Bradley Thornton swelled with smug satisfaction.

He turned to Liam with a vicious smirk.

"Not fitting in at Royal Oaks either, huh? None of these kids want anything to do with you. What good are perfect grades when nobody actually likes you?"

Bradley leaned in, his voice dripping with malice.

"My mom told me your mom barely finished high school. Can she even read properly? Not like us—kids from real elite families."

His eyes flicked to the other children, gleaming with cruel amusement.

"I bet they don’t know about your embarrassing mom, do they?

But don’t worry—they’ll find out soon enough."

Oliver had already started to leave.

But those last words froze him mid-step.

He whirled around, his glare burning into the three boys surrounding Liam. "What did you just say?"

Bradley grinned, thinking he'd hooked his prey.

"You want the details? At Liam’s birthday, his mom face-planted in front of everyone. It was pathetic."

Liam’s fists clenched. "Someone tripped her! It wasn’t her fault!"

The truth was, Nathan Prescott’s friends had stuck out a foot deliberately, sending Amy Sinclair crashing to the floor.

They’d laughed.

No one apologized.

Margaret Blackwood hadn’t cared about the truth—she’d just scolded Amy for humiliating the Blackwoods and banned her from future events.

Alexander Blackwood gave Nathan a half-hearted reprimand, but the real culprits faced no consequences.

In their world, status dictated everything.

Once the Blackwoods made their disdain clear, no one dared defend Amy.

Bradley burst into laughter. "Who cares why she fell? The look on her face—priceless! I nearly choked laughing—"

CRACK.

Oliver’s fist smashed into Bradley’s jaw.

Bradley staggered back, clutching his face in shock.

"You—you hit me?"

Bradley had been the undisputed tyrant of his old preschool.

No one dared challenge him.

Oliver looked small, fragile—the kind of kid Bradley could flatten without effort.

Yet here he was, standing his ground.

Bradley’s face twisted with rage. His glare had made tougher kids cower.

But Oliver didn’t flinch.

Before the Kingsleys adopted him, he’d fought grown men for scraps.

Bradley’s intimidation meant nothing.

"I hit you," Oliver said coldly. His delicate features were steel. "Say one more word about Amy Sinclair, and I’ll knock those teeth out myself."