chapter2170

Charlotte's patience snapped. She swung her palm and landed a decisive smack across Felix's backside.

The boy's eyes flew open, disbelief flooding every contour of his face.

"Y-You! How dare you hit my butt!"

Charlotte popped her own tongue right back at him. "Yes, I sure did. So what? Try hitting me back if you dare."

Felix's fury boiled over. With cheeks flushed and eyes narrowed to slits, he cocked his small fist and charged toward Charlotte.

She, a woman who could drop grown men with a single lazy jab, didn't even flinch at the pint-sized tornado barreling her way.

Charlotte caught Felix's wrist mid-swing, her fingers clamping down like steel. With the other hand, she pinched the back of his collar and hoisted him clean off the floor, as if he weighed no more than an empty backpack.

"I'm sure Jon and Eli have never invited you," she said, her voice calm but lethal. "So do us all a favor and go back to whatever rock you crawled out from."

The cluster of classmates watching from the living room archway fought the urge to applaud. Finally, someone was putting the arrogant new kid in his place.

Felix had strutted around school like a bantam rooster; now, even here in somebody else's house, he carried the same swagger. Watching that swagger collapse felt delicious.

Dangling in midair, Felix's sneakers kicked uselessly. Panic flickered in his eyes as he squeaked, "Put me down right now!"

Charlotte rocked him a little higher. "Not a chance. What are you going to do about it?"

Only then did Jonathan and Elliot notice the commotion. They drifted over, curiosity sparkling like twin comets in their eyes.

Elliot planted himself beneath the wriggling boy, hands in pockets, chin tipped up. "I never invited you, Felix. How shameless can you be, crashing our party like this?"

Color surged up Felix's neck, turning his ears the shade of boiled lobster.

"You posted the invitation in the group chat! How was I supposed to know I wasn't included? Besides, I come and go as I please. Who are you to tell me what to do?"

Charlotte chuckled. "Oh, really? You come and go as you please, huh? Let's see how you're going to leave, then." With that said, she gave him a playful swing, feet arcing over her shoulder in a dizzy half-circle.

Felix squeezed his eyes shut and wailed. "Please don't drop me! Please don't drop me!"

When he dared to peek, he realized the woman had only been teasing. She hadn't loosened her grip at all.

"Y-You pathetic lackey! If you're so tough, go ahead and drop me. My parents won't let you off!"

Charlotte's smile chilled. "Ah... You still have the guts to threaten me? Looks like I've been too kind to you."

She let him fall a foot, then snagged him again, the motion so quick it blurred.

Felix shrieked, a raw, wordless note that rattled the chandelier.

"Do you admit you were wrong?" she asked, voice smooth as ice.

"Yes! Yes I was wrong. Just put me down!"

For all his bluster, pain still terrified him.

Elliot spoke up. "Ms. Talbot, don't put him down yet. Maybe that will teach him not to bully anyone again."

Charlotte agreed. Letting Felix off that easily felt much too kind.

Holding him upside-down now, she said, "Remember this, brat. If you bully another classmate—or any kid again—I'll be back for you."

Felix's face burned crimson-not from the inverted blood rush but from the dozens of watching eyes.

His precious pride lay shattered on the polished hardwood. Curse this stupid working-class woman and Elliot Smith. How dare they embarrass me like this!

"I-I understand," he muttered, the words tasting like sand.

Charlotte was about to set him upright when a sharp female voice stabbed across the lawn.

"What on earth are you doing? Put my son down this instant!"

The shrill cry sliced through the house like a shard of broken glass, and Charlotte saw the recognition slam into Felix He knew exactly whose voice that was, and he knew

it was time to turn the tables.

"Mom! Hurry up and save me, Mom! This filthy lackey wants to kill me! I'm so scared. Waaah—"

High heels clacked in panicked

staccato. Miranda tore across the

corridor, fear blazing in her eyes, the expensive leather of her handbag

slapping against her hip with every stride.

"Charlotte Talbot, who said you could lay a finger on my son? Put him down this mostant or I'll call the police. Don't think won't Miranda's voice cracked, red-rimmed eyes flashing with fury. '