Her voice turned cruel, her gaze dripping with contempt. “After all these years, you’re still the same—fit only to grovel at my feet like a dog.”
Ignoring the burning pain in my hand, I rushed forward to grab her phone.
Before I could touch her, she took a dramatic step back and deliberately fell to the ground, tears welling up in her eyes. “Lauren, I was only checking if you were hurt. Why did you push me?”
Right on cue, Jameson stormed over, shoving me aside with force. His father, Arthur followed, slapping me hard across the face.
“You bastard child of a servant! Do you think this house is yours? Get out of my sight!”
Clutching my burning, swollen cheek, I instinctively turned to Jameson, hoping—praying—that he would defend me, as he always had.
But there was nothing.
Jameson didn’t say a word in my defense. Instead, he shot me a look of disgust before turning his full attention to Yvette, who was now cradled in his arms. He walked away with her, murmuring words of comfort.
The servants wasted no time shoving me out of the Hall family villa.