Isaac stood in the doorway, his gaze sweeping across the room until it landed squarely on me. For a heartbeat, he remained frozen, face twisted in a mix of smoldering anger and restraint. He clenched his fists tightly before barking my name with venom, motioning for me to follow him into the hallway.
Startled, I followed him into the dim corridor, only to be met with a stinging slap that landed sharply across my cheek.
It was the first time he had ever struck me.
Shock rendered me motionless. I stared at him, eyes wide, heart throbbing with pain. There was no remorse in his expression—just fury.
"Why did you shove Candice?" he hissed. "You knew she had a sprained ankle! I told you I’d explain everything once we got back, but you couldn’t wait, could you?"
His accusations cut deeper than the slap.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Candice approaching with an exaggerated limp. Her blouse was wrinkled, a faint stain on her shoulder, her steps slow and deliberate. As I opened my mouth to protest, she let out a theatrical gasp and tumbled forward.