The scattered strands of hair felt like needles, stabbing straight into my heart. My body trembled slightly.
“Logan.” Abigail Mason’s expression finally grew serious. “You went too far.”
“Alright, alright.” Logan shrugged, spreading his hands as he yawned. “Fine, I’ll stop teasing you.”
He pulled out some cash and tossed it over.
“Here, seven bucks. Go buy yourself a wig. Consider it compensation for this prank.”
Anyone could tell that those two casual sentences weren’t an apology at all. Those were more like condescension, even pity.
Yet Abigail turned to me and said, “Alright, just take the money and let this go.”
Her blatant favoritism sliced into my heart like a knife.
Last time, when I accidentally knocked over Logan’s water cup, a simple apology and compensation weren’t enough. Abigail forced me to write a ten-thousand-word self-criticism and read it aloud in public.
When I refused, she smashed a crystal cup engraved with a famous athlete’s signature against me as punishment, then he joked that we were “even.”
And now she wanted to brush this off so easily.