“Hey, Steven, the baker said this cake is pineapple, not mango,” someone remarked casually nearby.
My stomach twisted. Earlier, when I tasted the cake, the strong scent of mango had been unmistakable. And Margot had been standing right in front of me, watching me eat it.
Yet, she had believed Steven’s lie and, worse, punished me for calling it out.
Grinding the sharp heel of her stiletto into my injured fingers, she hissed, “Frank, what’s the point of lying? Stop slandering Steven. How does this help you? Apologize to us right now!”
Her voice was sharp, cutting through me like needles. My head buzzed, and the allergic reaction worsened by the second. The room blurred into indistinct shadows, and the chaotic noise around me faded into an eerie hum.
I yanked my hand free from under her heel, desperate to get away. I didn’t care if I had to crawl.
I just needed to escape this nightmare.
But Margot wasn’t finished with me. She barked orders at her bodyguards, who quickly blocked my path and dragged me back to her.
"It hurts..." I finally let out a cry, the pain overwhelming me.
Margot hesitated briefly before grabbing my injured left hand, her grip tightening.
"Oh, quit playing the victim!" she snapped, her voice laced with disdain. "Even if your left hand is broken, you’ll still have to play something for Steve."
Steven, ever the opportunist, chimed in with a faux concern, "Want me to help clean him up a bit? He’s looking pretty filthy."
Margot shot me a cold glance, her lip curling in disdain. "Don’t bother. No amount of cleaning will fix what’s already dirty on the inside." She paused, her voice dripping with venom. "Let him keep up this little charade. It’ll just show everyone what happens when you try to cross me."
Her words were a punch to the gut, a sharp reminder of her cruelty. She had said something similar the last time we almost broke up.
'Frank, if you dare walk away from me, I’ll make sure you lose everything. Don’t forget—everyone already knows your father was a cheater, and your mother killed herself out of shame. You’ve got nowhere else to go.'
Now, here she was again, dangling the same threats over my head.
Except this time, I wasn’t falling for it. This time, I felt nothing but disgust.
"Don’t touch me!" I shouted, yanking my hand free.