Single dad stops bully attacking twin girls at park, not knowing her mom is his …

She looked at Ethan, reading the scene in an instant. The ripped pages, the retreating bully, the steady way Ethan kept himself between the girls and the world. I’m Olivia, she said, a guarded edge under the gratitude.

And you just made an enemy you don’t want. Ethan’s jaw tightened. Just did what was right.

Olivia glanced toward the courts, then back at him. That boy’s father is Derek Cole. He retaliates, in public and private.

She exhaled, softening for a beat. Thank you for helping my girls. Mia tugged on Ethan’s sleeve, shy but determined.

Will you come to our school art day, please? Ethan smiled. If it’s open to visitors, I’ll be there. Olivia’s phone buzzed.

Her expression iced over, then thawed as she looked at the twins. We’re leaving. To Ethan, be careful.

To the girls, say thank you. Thank you, Mr. Ethan. Both chimed.

He watched them go. The sketchbook hugged tight to Mia’s chest. As the SUV door shut, Ethan caught his reflection in the window.

Tired eyes, grease under the nails, a faint scar he never bothered to explain. He told himself he’d done a simple good deed and that would be that. Then a matte black sedan eased to the curb, idled, and rolled away slow.

Windows tinted too dark for a school zone afternoon. Ethan’s phone vibrated. Unknown number, he answered.

Mr. Cole, a woman’s voice said. Detective Reynolds, do you have a minute to talk about an incident at Maple Ridge Park? And a man named Derek Cole? Ethan’s shoulders squared. Yeah, I’ve got a minute.

Ethan stepped behind the auto shop’s bay door, phone to his ear. Detective Reynolds, what’s this about? Yesterday’s park incident, she said, voice calm but clipped. The boy you stopped, his father is Derek Cole.

When someone crosses his family, he looks for pressure points, job, home, custody. You’ve got a daughter, right? Ethan’s jaw set. Lily, seven, then listen.

If you notice strange cars, new customers asking odd questions, or a sudden complaint to CPS, call me. Don’t try to handle it alone. He ended the call and killed the shop lights, scanning the street.

A matte sedan idled too long at the corner, then slid away. By morning, two appointments canceled without explanation. The third guy came in asking too many questions about Ethan’s schedule and who else had a key…