I glanced at the scissors lying on the nearby table, grabbed them, and walked straight toward Audrey's dress. Without hesitation, I sliced the hem of the fabric, cutting it near her leg.
"Simon," I said, my voice cold and sharp, every word carrying weight, "since you're so sure of yourself, watch closely. I won't settle for anything dirty. And I won't keep the dress stained."
Simon froze, his eyes wide with shock. In the past, no matter how I acted—whether playful or bratty—he’d never seen me like this. Never seen me so serious, so determined.
His instincts kicked in, and he reached for me, but before he could make a move, Audrey's high-pitched voice sliced through the tension.
“Simon, my leg! I think I scraped it. It really hurts, but don’t worry about me. Go take care of her. This is all my fault…”
Simon hesitated for a moment, torn between me and Audrey. He looked from my retreating form to her, and then back at me. After a long, suffocating pause, he sneered, his voice dripping with contempt.
“Don’t worry about her. An insecure woman like her needs to be taught a lesson. Maybe this will help her reflect.”