“How can someone as lowly as you look like me?”
It wasn’t until years later that I finally understood her hatred. Back then, Jameson, drunk and delirious, had held her tightly—while calling out my name.
From that day, her torment began. She bullied me relentlessly, taking pleasure in humiliating me and capturing every degrading moment in photos. Those photos became her leverage, used to silence me, ensuring I wouldn’t tell anyone about the abuse.
Her reign of terror only ended when Jameson broke up with her. That year, consumed by anger, she left the country.
Shaking, I dragged myself back to the present and lunged for Yvette’s phone. “Delete it!”
She smirked, taunting me. “Tsk, tsk, tsk. Feeling desperate now, little stand-in? Don’t worry; I’ve got plenty of pictures of you begging and crying. Want me to show you some?”
I stared at her with cold fury as she laughed openly. “Yvette, I’m not the same Lauren you used to bully. If you dare use those photos to threaten me again, I’ll sue you!”
“Oh, the little beggar has grown some claws, huh? I’m so scared! But guess what? I’m not deleting anything. What can you even do about it?”