She scoffed, almost like she was laughing at how pathetic Solenne had been.
The truth hit Solenne so hard, she could barely stand. Her mind went completely blank.
She had knowj Rockwell didn’t love her. But hearing it spoken out loud—so cruel, so direct—felt like a knife plunging straight into her chest.
Outside the restroom, Rockwell’s voice called out, “Chesca? What’s taking so long? Is everything okay?”
And then, without a moment’s hesitation, Chesca slapped herself across the face. Hard.
A red handprint bloomed across her pale cheek as she staggered backward and fell to the floor with a sharp, deliberate scream.
“Ahh! I didn’t do anything to you! Why would you hit me?!”
Her voice trembled with tears and fear—loud enough to reach Rockwell’s ears.
Without thinking, he rushed into the women’s restroom.
There she was—Chesca on the floor, a red mark across her cheek.
And beside her—Solenne.
Without even pausing to ask, Rockwell raised his hand and slapped Solenne hard.
“Are you out of your mind?! She didn’t even do anything to you! If you have a problem, take it out on me! Why would you hit her?!”
For the first time, he spoke to her with such fury, such sharpness in both tone and eyes.