My Niece's Bully Raised My Fiance's Red Flags

It was late at night, and I was still in the study, video conferencing with executives from several of the company’s overseas branches.

In the middle of it, my seven-year-old niece came in, clutching her doll in her arms. In a soft voice, she asked if I could attend her parent-teacher meeting the next day.

When she was five, my brother and sister-in-law died in a car accident.

Looking into her hopeful eyes, I agreed without hesitation.

The next morning, I personally drove her to the prestigious academy she attended.

But as soon as I parked in the outdoor parking lot, a woman stomped over and knocked hard on my car window.

“Are you freaking blind?” she snapped. “I saw this spot first—what gives you the right to take it?”

I froze for a second, glancing at the red sports car parked behind me.

It had clearly entered after I did and hadn’t been able to find a space. How come I was the one “stealing” this spot?

Still, choosing not to escalate things, I kept my voice calm. “This is a public parking lot. Whoever gets here first gets the spot.”

Who would’ve thought she’d take it too far? She stormed back to her car, pulled out a baseball bat, and smashed it right into my windshield!

“Whatever I set my eyes on is mine!” she said through gritted teeth. “And let me be real with you—my husband’s one of the school’s board members. Piss me off, and I’ll have President Grandpierre kick your poor-ass self and that poor-ass kid of yours out of this school!”

For a few seconds, I just blinked at the absurdity. Then, I pulled out my phone and called Redmond Grandpierre.

“I heard President Grandpierre already has a wife? In that case, I guess our engagement is officially over.”

——

My engagement to Redmond was arranged at his father’s request.

Years ago, my grandfather owed the Grandpierres a favor. Redmond’s father took advantage of that to push this marriage through.

My grandfather was a man of honor, so he agreed.

But frankly, if not for that favor, the Grandpierres wouldn’t even qualify to marry into the Winchesters. In Minneapolis, our family’s status was far above theirs.

Even so, a favor is a favor. But if Redmond was already married—or even had another woman—then the Grandpierres had deceived us.

If they dared make a fool out of me, I, Kennedy Winchester, wouldn’t let it slide!

Lucky for Redmond, I made that call to still give him a chance to explain.

After all, I was a reasonable woman who believed in one principle—listen to both sides and you’ll understand the truth; listen to only one and you’ll be led astray.

Unfortunately, all I got in return was his cold, impatient voice.

“I’m busy. I don’t have time to entertain your nonsense. Stop jumping to conclusions over every little rumor!”

“I’m your fiancée. I have every right to ask. Don’t you think you owe me at least an explanation? I—”

Before I could finish, he hung up.

I just stared at the screen, dumfounded.

Well, damn. Someone’s got a temper!

Guess he’s not thrilled about this engagement either.

Meanwhile, the woman who had smashed my car—Lacey Madigan—stood a few feet away, gripping her baseball bat like a trophy and smirking at my misfortune.

“What’s wrong? Your fiancé won’t back you up?” she mocked.

Threatening me, she urged, “You better move that cheap car of yours before I decide to smash more than just your windshield!”

Today, I wasn’t driving my usual luxury vehicle—it was in for servicing. Instead, I’d brought out a fairly standard Mercedes sedan. Compared to her flashy red supercar, it didn’t exactly scream money.

Clearly, she’d made assumptions. She must’ve thought I was broke and so, she treated me like trash.

But I raised my eyebrows. “You serious right now?”

I scoffed. “You smashed my car, threatened me, and now you’re still running your mouth? You think I won’t call the cops?”

As I pulled out my phone and started dialing, her eyes widened. Then she lunged at me.

“Bitch! You really think calling the cops is gonna scare me? Go ahead—call them! My husband’s got money. If I told him to, he could make you disappear in this city!”

While we struggled over the phone, my niece—terrified—curled up and burst into tears.

Hearing her cry, I let go and rushed to comfort her, pulling her into my arms.

At the same time, across the lot, a chubby little boy jumped out of Lacey’s red sports car. He had a backpack on and came running up to her.

Grinning wide, he pointed at my niece and shouted.