Chapter 1: The Day They Made My Daughter Fall
"DADDY! PLEASE HELP ME!""
I heard my eight-year-old daughter screaming before I even saw her.
And when I finally looked toward the athletic field, I saw six children standing around her, laughing.
One of them was holding a wooden stick.
Another was filming.
And my little girl was on the pavement, desperately trying to pull herself upright with one hand while protecting her prosthetic leg with the other.
My name is Alexander Cross.
I was forty-two years old, the chairman of Cross Education Foundation, and a father who had spent two years learning how to smile whenever his daughter asked whether her missing leg made her different.
Emily had lost her left leg in a car accident when she was six.
Her mother, Victoria, had been driving that afternoon. A truck ran a red light, crushing the passenger side of their vehicle. Victoria survived with minor injuries. Emily spent eleven days in the hospital.
The doctors saved her life.
They couldn't save her leg.
Since then, Emily had worked harder than most adults I knew.
She learned to stand again.
She learned to walk.
She learned to climb stairs without asking for help.
And three weeks earlier, she'd started at Westbridge Academy, an expensive private school in Dallas, Texas.
Victoria had worried about sending her there.
"Alexander, are you sure this is the right place?"" she'd asked me during dinner.
"It's one of the best schools in Texas," I replied.
"That doesn't mean the children are kind.""
I reached across the table and squeezed her hand.
"Emily deserves the same opportunities as everyone else.""
I believed that.
Until that afternoon.
I had arrived early to pick Emily up. My driver, Marcus, was waiting beside our SUV while I answered emails in the back seat.
Then I heard the scream.
I threw open the door.
"Marcus! Stop!""
He looked toward the field.
"Sir?""
"Get the security team. Now!""
I ran.
By the time I reached the athletic area, Emily was sitting on the ground. Her pink backpack lay several feet away. Her books were scattered across the pavement.
A boy in an expensive navy jacket stood over her.
Tyler Whitmore.
I'd heard his name before.
Emily had mentioned him once at dinner, but she'd quickly changed the subject when I asked what happened.
Now I understood why.
Tyler held a wooden practice stick in both hands.
"Get up, robot girl!"" he shouted.
Emily shook her head.
"Please stop, Tyler. It hurts.""
He laughed.
"What's wrong? Can't your robot leg move?""
A girl beside him covered her mouth, giggling.
"Maybe it's out of batteries!""
Another boy raised his phone.
"Do it again, Tyler!""
Tyler lifted the stick.
Emily tried to crawl backward.
"Please don't!""
CRACK!
The wooden stick struck the side of her prosthetic leg.
The sound was sharp enough to make my stomach turn.
Emily fell sideways.
Her hands scraped against the pavement.
The six children erupted in laughter.
"LOOK! SHE BROKE!""
I felt something cold move through my chest.
"HEY!""
Every child turned.
I dropped to my knees beside Emily.
"Sweetheart. Daddy's here.""
She immediately grabbed my jacket.
"Daddy, I tried to walk away.""
Her voice trembled.
"I didn't do anything.""
I brushed the hair away from her face.
"I know. You did nothing wrong.""
Marcus arrived behind me with two members of my security team.
"Mr. Cross, should we call an ambulance?""
"Yes. And contact her mother.""
I carefully examined Emily's leg. The outer protective shell had cracked near the knee joint. Her prosthetic foot was twisted at an unnatural angle.
"Does anything hurt besides your leg?""
"My hands.""
"Okay. Don't move, sweetheart.""
I turned toward Tyler.
"What's your name?""
He straightened his jacket.
"Tyler Whitmore.""
"Did you hit my daughter?""
He shrugged.
"She was being annoying.""
"With a wooden stick?""
"She should've moved.""
His friends laughed again, although much less confidently this time.
I stood up.
"You're eight years old. Do you understand what you've done?""
Tyler tilted his head.
"My dad owns half this city.""
He pointed at my chest.
"You can't do anything to me.""
Before I could answer, a woman came running across the field.
"What's happening here?""
It was Emily's teacher, Mrs. Collins.
She stopped when she saw the broken prosthetic.
"Oh, my goodness.""
I looked directly at her.
"Where were you?""
She swallowed.
"I was supervising the other students.""
"Then why was my daughter surrounded by six children?""
"I... I didn't see exactly what happened.""
Emily reached for my hand.
"Daddy, I told her yesterday.""
I looked down.
"Told her what?""
Emily's eyes filled with tears.
"That Tyler kept calling me names.""
Mrs. Collins shifted uncomfortably.
"Children sometimes tease each other, Mr. Cross. We try to encourage them to resolve these things peacefully.""
I stared at her.
"Someone struck an eight-year-old child with a wooden stick. Is that how your school encourages peaceful behavior?""
She didn't answer.
Then the principal appeared.
Principal Harris hurried toward us, his face turning pale as he recognized me.
"MR. CROSS!""
Tyler smiled.
"Principal Harris! Tell this guy my dad—"
"Tyler, be quiet.""
The principal turned toward me.
"Mr. Cross, I sincerely apologize. We can discuss this in my office.""
I glanced at Emily.
"First, get the nurse and preserve every second of the security footage.""
"Of course.""
"And I want her mother contacted immediately.""
"Absolutely, sir.""
Behind us, three black SUVs entered the school gates.
Their engines rumbled across the parking lot.
The security team stepped out.
The children stopped laughing.
Tyler looked at the vehicles, then at me.
"Who are those people?""
I didn't answer.
Because my daughter was still holding my jacket, and all I could think about was how frightened she'd looked when that stick came down.
Then Principal Harris whispered something that made me turn toward him.
"Mr. Cross, perhaps we should discuss this before you make any decisions.""
I narrowed my eyes.
"Why?""
His face went almost white.
"Because there may be some... complications involving the Whitmore family.""
I looked at Tyler.
Then at the principal.
"Explain.""
He glanced nervously toward the school building.
May you like
"Not here, sir.""
And that was the moment I realized my daughter's injury might be only the beginning.
