I was fuming, my temples throbbing, ready to snap back when Beatrice suddenly sprang to her feet. She rushed to the dining table, grabbed an expensive porcelain vase, and smashed it to the ground.
I gasped, but before I could say anything, it was like a signal to the rest of them.
They went wild, grabbing anything they could get their hands on and smashing it.
One guy even climbed onto the couch, yanking down the painting on the wall – a genuine Monet – and stomping on it with a smirk.
“Look at this, folks! I’m wrecking this tramp’s precious stuff!”
I watched their destruction, my face cold as I gave one last warning.
“You’d better think twice. You can’t afford to pay for what you’re destroying. Don’t come beg me when the bill comes.”
But my words only fueled Beatrice’s anger. She glanced at my antique display shelf, gave me a taunting smile, and with a loud crash, toppled the entire oakwood shelf.
“Beg you? Everything you own was bought with Harper’s money! I’m just destroying what’s already his!”
I stood there helplessly, watching as priceless treasures I’d collected over the years shattered at my feet.