She pressed her foot on my head, grinding it into the floor.
“Bitch, this is the price of crossing me.”
I looked at her through the pain, each word sharp as a blade:
“I will never let you get away with this.”
Hearing that, her face twisted for a moment, and she raised her hand to slap me.
Just then, the police arrived.
The bodyguards restraining me quickly let go. Clara Johnson glared at me with hatred, then forced a smile as she greeted them.
The officer barked, “What’s going on here? A public brawl? You’re all coming back to the station with me!”
I struggled to my feet, cradled Sophie in my arms, and pointed straight at Clara:
“Officer, she and her staff framed my daughter for stealing and then stomped on her hand, breaking it. I want to press charges for assault!”
Clara’s eyes flickered with guilt, but she quickly retorted:
“Who framed who? That kid stole from the restaurant. The stolen goods are still in her bag!”
“And besides, she broke her hand falling. What does that have to do with me?”
Listening to her lies, I clenched my fists so hard my palms bled, barely restraining myself from tearing her mouth apart.