And the bedroom he wanted to seal off?
It was my bedroom.
Suddenly, Margot’s voice came through the feed. “Yeah, do what he says. Get rid of all those eyesores.”
Panic surged through me. I bolted to the car and sped toward the villa. By the time I arrived, it was chaos. Steven’s men pinned me down the moment I walked in.
I struggled against their hold, but they were too strong. One of them grabbed my almost-healed left hand and twisted it.
The sharp, blinding pain shot through me, and my vision blurred. Everything went dark.
“Hey, Carmichael, you’re nothing but Margot’s discarded trash,” Steven sneered, his voice dripping with mockery as it echoed in my ears.
I clenched my jaw so tightly I could feel the sharp pain radiating up my gums. I bit my lip hard enough to draw blood, the metallic taste pooling in my mouth. As much as I wanted to brush off his words, I couldn’t. He wasn’t entirely wrong. At that moment, I did feel like trash—something Margot had used and tossed aside without a second thought.