I donated 45 million to the city's best kindergarten, but my daughter failed the enrollment interview. She was a polymath.

Furious, I demanded an explanation from admissions. She hurled an assessment file at my face. "Your daughter's brilliant, but you're the exact opposite! You're dead last among the parents!"

She continued, "The others have tech domes! You're nothing but a regular Ivy League graduate! Your degree's worth about as much as toilet paper!"

The other teachers laughed as well. "If we admit her daughter, it's going to look bad on the other kids. She can't take that responsibility."

"Yeah, I can't believe she's demanding an explanation from Ms. Johnson. Her husband is the kindergarten's biggest stakeholder. He can make sure her daughter has nowhere to go."

The admission teacher shoved me away. With disdain in her eyes, she said, "Out of my sight if you know what's good for you. My husband is picking me up in his Rolls-Royce. His car plate alone is worth more than your life! It's lucky 777! Only one in Georgeport!"

Three sevens? That was my husband's car. I laughed mirthlessly and texted my husband. "I had no idea you had another wife behind me."

Slandered

My phone started buzzing wildly. 'And who the hell started that rumor? Helena, I've only got one woman, and that's you! Goddammit, I'm going to the kindy right now. I can't believe someone is pretending to be you!'

Quincy Shaw's reply calmed me down a little. Back in college, he was the center of everyone's attention, yet he would set aside all his pride just to court me for four years.

After we were married, I became his whole world. The chances of him cheating on me were infinitely low. I tucked my phone away and looked coldly at the admission teacher. Her name was Samantha Johnson.

"Did you even know the name of that car's owner before you started calling him your husband?"

Samantha snickered. "Quincy Shaw, of course. I aborted twice in three years just to make sure he could focus on his career!"

Two abortion in three years? If that was true, Quincy started cheating on me when I was pregnant with our daughter, but that couldn't be. He spent all day taking care of me back then. He didn't even have time to go out. This was getting weird.

My heart sank, and then another teacher, one with wavy hair, said sarcastically, "They're in love. I bet this woman's here to drive a wedge."

I took a deep breath and held my fury back. Then I lit up my screen. The wallpaper showed Quincy holding me in his arms, while Harmony was riding his neck. We were beaming like a happy family.

"This is a photo of my family going out last month. I'm Quincy's wife. Now, tell me, who exactly is your husband?"

The other teachers tried to take a look. Samantha grabbed my phone without even looking. She mocked, "Tech is not the same now. You can just get Mr. Shaw's photo and Photoshop him in. He told me he's not even married yet! He doesn't have a wife or a kid! I'll make you show who you really are!"

She smashed my phone to the ground, and the screen cracked. The phone had all of Harmony's photos since she was a baby. It was one of the most important things in my life.

My blood froze, and so did I, but Samantha only laughed. "Cat got your tongue? I knew you were a fake. Quincy always gets me designer bags worth high five figures. You call yourself his wife, but you're only using a cheap phone."

The wavy-haired teacher realized what was going on. She chimed in, "Yeah, you look like a temptress. I bet you tried to seduce Mr. Shaw and failed, so you're trying to fight his wife. I've seen many women like you. I can't believe you're pretending to be Ms. Johnson. You're done for!"

The slander kept coming, and my fingers were trembling. Samantha only looked at me darkly, and she put on a fake smile.

"Well, this broke bitch just wants her kid to get into a good school. I can't blame her for coming up with this idea. Fine, I can give you an opportunity. We need a janitor anyway. If you take the job, I'll let your daughter in as an underprivileged student."

She scoffed. "You can watch your girl sharing the same classroom as the elite children while you clean our school. Sounds like a better life for you, huh?"

Underprivileged student? I spent forty-five million, and this bitch was going to steal my name to show off and torment my daughter? How dare she!

"Me, a janitor?" I laughed mirthlessly. "You think really highly of yourself, don't you?"

The Trash Bin

The other teachers bristled.

"You're pushing it! Our janitors get paid three thousand dollars every month! People would kill to get a spot!"

"Yeah, she's giving you a chance, and you're spitting in her hand? Take your daughter and scram!"

Samantha covered her giggle behind her hand. "Oh, leaving is easy for her. I think we should make her know her place!"

She tried to shove me, but I stepped back and smacked her hand. "You're a teacher. Watch your tongue."

"How dare you fight back!" Samantha was angered, and she slapped me hard.

My cheek was burning, and my ears rang.

"Guards, take her to the storeroom!"

A pair of guards darted ahead and grabbed me by my arms, then they pushed me toward the storeroom.

"Let go! You can't do this to me!" I tried to pull myself away, but they were two adult males. They kept pushing me until I was pinned in the corner.

Samantha sneered and picked up a trash bin. "I can do this to you. My husband is this place's biggest stakeholder. He invested 45 million just for me. He's not around, so I call the shots!"

"I donated that money for my daughter! You have nothing to do with it! I can prove it!"

"You're still lying." Samantha sneered. "You don't know your place, but I can help you with that."

She turned her hand, and the whole bin of trash rained upon me. Empty, sticky yogurt boxes, stained napkins, and everything else that smelled rancid assailed my nose. I nearly retched.

"Sober now?" Samantha tossed the bin away and dusted her hands. Then she looked at me like I was a maggot. "Stop daydreaming. Trash belongs in the bin."

The wavy-haired teacher got the hint. She grabbed a mop. Dirty water was still dripping from its ends. "Ms. Johnson, I think we should teach her that some people are born to be filthy, lowly peasants.

She dragged the mop across my blouse, and a yellowish-brown stain bloomed like a nasty flower. It smelled like rotten food. The guards were still pinning me against the wall.

"Come, ladies!" Samantha clapped her hands. "Wash Mr. Shaw's wife clean. Maybe we can sell her for good money. That'll pay for her daughter's fees!"

The other teachers grabbed brooms and cleaning cloth, then they came to me.

Humiliation and the filth on my face blurred my vision. I stared darkly at Samantha's face. If I could, I would tear this woman limb from limb.

It wasn't the time to cry. Harmony was still in the car waiting for me. I was her mother. I must not let her see me acting so weak.

So I mustered up my courage and slammed my head backward right into a guard's jaw.

The sudden attack made him loosen his grip. I broke free of their grasp and rushed toward the door as hard as I could.

"You crazy bitch!" The guard wiped his face. Blood was dripping from his nose. The moment he saw red, he went crazy.

The guard darted ahead and yanked me by my hair, then he dragged me back. The pain made me shriek, but he tossed me back to the corner. "You thought you could run after hitting me, bitch?"

I was pinned against the ground, covered in trash. His knee was against my back, and his full weight was behind it. I could not even move.

"Let me go! Quincy is coming! He'll kill you for this!"

My warning only made them laugh.

"She still thinks she's Mr. Shaw's wife! He picks up Ms. Johnson from work all the time! This woman's nothing!"

"Guess we really have to write out she's trash on her face, or she's never going to face the truth."

The wavy-haired teacher handed a marker pen over like a sycophant.

"You have a point." Samantha smiled smugly. She took the pen and approached me.

"Quincy is with me every single night!" I said. "He doesn't have the time to pick you up from work!"

"You're still stubborn."

I tried to protest, but Samantha's face fell. She crouched down and was going to scribble on my face.

Then, a young voice came from the entrance. It stammered, "D-Don't bully… bully my mom!"

Cruel Teacher

Harmony? But she was supposed to be in the car. I told her to stay there. My daughter was a timid child. Everything that was happening here would scare her!

"Harmony, get back into the car, now!" I said, my voice was breaking from panic.

"You were out too long, Mom. I was scared…" Harmony cried as she ran up to me, but Samantha scooped her up by the waist.

"So you're the little brat?"

"Let me go! Don't hurt my mom! You're meanies!" Harmony flailed her arms and legs and punched Samantha's chest.

"Your mother's a bitch, and you're no better. Stay still, or I'll gouge your eyes out!" Samantha's eyes dripped venom, and she pulled on Harmony's cheeks as hard as she could.

My daughter cried loudly. "Mom! Save me, Mom!"

My heart was hurting, burning from pain. "Let her go! Come at me if you're human! Leave the girl alone!"

My face was twisted, and I tried to get back up.

"She's moving again." Samantha gave the guards a look.

One of them sneered and slammed his palm into my cheek. Again and again he slapped me, until my cheeks were red and swollen.

The pain robbed me of my ability to speak, and my collar was creased from all the tugs.

"Don't hit my mom! Please!"

"You want us to let her go? Sure?"

Samantha smiled and pointed at the trash bin. "Get on all fours and crawl into that thing. And also, you must say 'I'm trash' ten times. Do that, and I'll let your mother go."

Everything stopped. My mind was blank. Harmony was always the more sensitive one among her peers. She was on the spectrum and needed more care.

If she crawled into the bin and called herself trash, it would leave an indelible mark on her heart. Her life would be ruined. I'd rather die than let that happen!

"Harmony, no…" I tried to say, but the pain did not let me. I shook my head violently and made a vague sound. "Don't listen to her…"

But my daughter, my sweet, lovely daughter, smiled at me though she was shivering. "It's alright, Mom. They'll stop hitting you if I do this."

Then she turned around and went on all fours. My little bundle of love was crawling into that trash bin. The brown filth tainted the edges of her dress, and the air was filled with a rancid stench.

A layer of black grime painted itself on her face, and Harmony curled up in the bin. The stench was making her retch.

The sight was cleaving my heart in two, and I thrashed wildly. "Let her go, you bastards!"

Then the guards slapped me.

"Now say 'I'm trash,' or I'll keep beating your mom!"