Margot’s face drained of color. She stormed up to me, her expression twisted with rage and slapped me hard across the face.
“You picked the wrong place to pull this stunt,” she sneered, her tone full of venom.
To her, my actions were nothing more than a childish outburst of jealousy—a pathetic attempt to cling to something that no longer existed. Her slap wasn’t just physical. It was full of contempt, a reminder of how little she thought of me.
I lowered my head, swallowing my pride, as she continued her verbal assault.
“Frank, are you done embarrassing yourself yet?” she spat. “You’re pathetic!”
I felt the fight drain out of me entirely. It wasn’t just her words—it was the years of pain, humiliation, and betrayal finally catching up to me. I was exhausted. This twisted relationship had decayed beyond repair.
Taking a deep breath, I turned to leave.
But, of course, Margot wasn’t done.
“Frank,” she called after me, her voice sharp and biting. “You better think this through. Without me, you have nothing. No one will dare to help you.”