Anyone Who Messes With My Granddaughter Must Pay
After climbing my way up from nothing to become the richest man in the city, I got used to keeping a low profile.
Until one day, I received a call from my granddaughter’s kindergarten.
They said she had hit another child in class and told me to come in to settle the matter.
But when I arrived, I found my granddaughter covered in injuries.
The boy who claimed she had hit him didn’t have a scratch on him. Instead, he spat at me with a smug look on his face.
“You old geezer. Your whole outfit isn’t even worth as much as one pair of my sneakers. Take your broke little granddaughter and get out!”
I stared at the homeroom teacher in disbelief.
She only curled her lip.
“Kids say silly things. Besides, what Harvey Harris said isn’t exactly wrong.
“His grandfather is the richest man in the city. Our kindergarten is an elite school, after all. Ordinary families like yours should stop coming here just to embarrass yourselves. You’d be better off transferring her somewhere else.”
When I heard the boy’s name, I almost laughed.
I pulled out my phone and called John Harris, my driver of ten years.
“John, stop waiting by the car. Come to the office.
“Why? Because the grandson you begged me to help get into this kindergarten just beat up my granddaughter.”
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