The skin on half her body blistered and split, peeling back to expose raw, bleeding flesh beneath. Tears fell onto the exposed tissue, and the salt ignited a pain so sharp it nearly blinded her.
Ian appeared behind her at some point, his arm draped around Nadia's waist.
His gaze drifted to Clara's mangled arm. His eyes creased with a mocking smile.
"Well, well. I thought you were all-powerful. Turns out you feel pain like the rest of us."
"Ian Delgado, what gave you the right to burn my things?!" Her voice cracked. "These past three years—without those texts, you'd be dead!"
"Enough!"
He closed the distance in a single stride and locked his hand around her throat.
"Stop waving your filthy little trinkets around. They make me sick." His grip tightened. "I'm not just burning them. I'm going to make sure the entire world sees you for the fraud you are."
Before she could gather herself, dozens—no, hundreds—of reporters flooded the narrow hallway. Camera lenses and microphones thrust into her face.
"Miss Pruitt, you've swindled the Delgado family out of a fortune over the past three years. Do you feel any remorse at all?"
"You realize this constitutes criminal fraud, don't you?"