"Ha! You couldn't even keep it. Sometimes, you really can't blame men."
The crisp clink of porcelain on wood echoed in the room, followed by her scream.
The bodyguards stared silently as Penelope writhed on the floor, clutching her stomach as blood pooled beneath her.
"Esther! You'll die for this!"
Her shrieks filled the air as the guards dragged her away.
"You're not afraid of Derek's revenge?"
My fingers tapped lightly against the marble tabletop. My voice was calm and steady. "You should know—becoming Mrs. Vazquez isn't about a man's love. That alone will never be enough."
That night, Derek came home—with dozens of men.
They filled an entire floor of the estate.
Unless he was facing a formidable rival, he never made such a show of force.
But this was the first time he had ever turned his blade on me.
We sat at opposite ends of the negotiation table, each backed by rows of men standing silently behind us.
"Twice now."
His slender fingers tapped lightly against the marble surface, the sound seemed sharp in the silence.
"Esther, you owe her an apology," he spat coldly.