“Don’t you know what a fruit plate is?” she sneered, her voice dripping with malice. “How many decent women work in bars, nightclubs, bathhouses, or massage parlors?”
She went on, relishing every word. “Marry an honest guy, get off the fruit plate—that’s how you clean up your act! But she’s still out there cheating, taking advantage of my kind-hearted brother, using him as a fool while she messes around.”
I clenched my fists, disgusted by her audacity. Her words were poison, and I could see the others in the room beginning to believe her lies.
As Heather's words grew more outrageous, I couldn't hold back any longer. I pushed open the door to the private room and walked in, my patience wearing thin.
"Heather, what did you just say?" I demanded, my voice cutting through the room. The friends who had been casually chatting and playing games immediately fell silent, their eyes darting between us.
Heather sat among them, a smug smile tugging at her lips, clearly enjoying the drama she'd stirred up. I took a deep breath, forcing myself to stay calm. "You should be careful with your words. Spreading rumors is illegal, and you have to be responsible for what you say."