Chapter 2170

Charlotte’s patience finally snapped. She swung her hand and landed a sharp smack squarely on Felix’s backside.

The boy’s eyes flew open, disbelief written all over his face.

“Y–You! How dare you hit my butt!”

Charlotte clicked her tongue right back at him. “I did. So what? Try hitting me back if you’ve got the nerve.”

Felix’s fury boiled over. His cheeks flushed crimson, eyes narrowing into slits as he clenched his small fist and charged at her.

Charlotte—who could drop grown men with a lazy flick of her wrist—didn’t even flinch.

She caught Felix’s arm mid-swing, fingers locking around his wrist like iron. With her other hand, she grabbed the back of his collar and lifted him clean off the ground as if he weighed nothing more than an empty backpack.

“I’m pretty sure Jon and Eli never invited you,” she said calmly, her tone lethal. “So do everyone a favor and crawl back to whatever hole you came from.”

The cluster of classmates watching from the living room doorway fought the urge to applaud. Someone was finally putting the arrogant new kid in his place.

Felix had strutted around school like a bantam rooster. Seeing that swagger collapse—right here, in someone else’s house—was deeply satisfying.

Dangling helplessly in midair, Felix’s sneakers kicked uselessly. Panic flashed through his eyes as he squeaked, “Put me down right now!”

Charlotte lifted him a little higher. “Not a chance. What are you going to do about it?”

That was when Jonathan and Elliot finally noticed the commotion. They wandered over, curiosity sparkling in their eyes.

Elliot stopped beneath the wriggling boy, hands in his pockets, chin tipped up. “I didn’t invite you, Felix. How shameless can you be, crashing our party like this?”

Color rushed up Felix’s neck, his ears turning the shade of boiled lobster.

“You posted the invitation in the group chat!” he shouted. “How was I supposed to know I wasn’t included? Besides, I go wherever I want. Who are you to tell me what to do?”

Charlotte chuckled softly. “Oh? You go wherever you want?” She tilted her head. “Then let’s see how you plan on leaving.”

With that, she gave him a casual swing. Felix’s legs arced 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 peek again, he realized she hadn’t loosened her grip at all.

“Y–You filthy lackey!” he screamed. “If you’re so tough, go ahead and drop me! My parents won’t let you get away with this!”

Charlotte’s smile turned icy. “Still threatening me?” she said softly. “Looks like I’ve been far too gentle.”

She let him fall a full foot—then caught him again instantly, the motion so fast it blurred.

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

“Do you admit you were wrong?” Charlotte asked, her voice smooth as ice.

“Yes! Yes, I was wrong!” Felix cried. “Just put me down!”

For all his bluster, pain terrified him.

Elliot spoke up from the side. “Ms. Talbot, don’t put him down yet. Maybe this will teach him not to bully people again.”

Charlotte agreed. Letting him off this easily felt far too kind.

Holding him upside down now, she said coolly, “Remember this, brat. If you bully another classmate—or any kid—again, I’ll come find you.”

Felix’s face burned red—not just from the blood rushing to his head, but from the dozens of eyes watching him. His pride lay shattered across the polished hardwood floor.

Curse this stupid working-class woman. Curse Elliot Smith. How dare they humiliate him like this?

“I… I understand,” he muttered, the words tasting like sand.

Charlotte was just about to set him upright when a sharp female voice sliced through the air.

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

The shrill cry cut through the house like shattered glass. Charlotte saw recognition slam into Felix’s eyes. He knew that voice—and he knew it was time to turn the tables.

“Mom!” Felix sobbed instantly. “Save me, Mom! This filthy lackey is trying to kill me! I’m so scared—waaah!”

High heels clacked in frantic staccato as Miranda stormed down the corridor, fear blazing in her eyes. Her designer handbag slapped against her hip with every hurried step.

“Charlotte Talbot!” Miranda shrieked, her voice cracking with fury. “Who gave you permission to lay a finger on my son? Put him down this instant, or I’ll call the police! Don’t think I won’t!”