Margot noticed my reaction and frowned, a flicker of concern crossing her face. But then her gaze landed on my bandaged left hand. Her expression twisted into something sharp and mocking.
"You really went all out with this little act, didn’t you?" she sneered. "Coming here just to change the dressing? Let me see how bad it really is."
Without warning, she reached out to grab my injured hand. I yanked it away and shoved her aside.
Margot let out a soft cry, and in an instant, her bodyguards sprang into action, pinning me to the ground like I was some kind of threat.
“Ahhh!” I cried out as one of them wrenched my broken left hand behind my back. The pain was excruciating. I felt the bandages tighten as fresh blood seeped through them.
Margot didn’t even flinch. Instead, she coolly turned her phone screen toward me, forcing me to stare at it. My stomach dropped. The screen was filled with hateful comments and insults.
She had posted a statement on Instagram, casually admitting to her relationship with Steven. But that wasn’t the worst part. She’d accused me of being the third party—the homewrecker who tried to ruin their relationship.