Gasping weakly for breath, I gritted my teeth and whispered, "You may not hold that title for long."
Juliet's expression turned icy when she heard it.
"How dare you curse me, you filthy bitch?" she spat.
"Since nothing decent comes out of your mouth, then you might as well never speak again."
With that, Juliet pulled a needle and thread from the black bag.
Seeing this, one of the bridesmaids, her voice trembling slightly, asked.
"Juliet, isn't this going too far? We're in public, and this could get us into serious trouble."
Juliet, utterly fearless, replied, "What are you afraid of? My husband is the wealthiest man in the city. He spoils me. If anything happens, he'll handle it. Even if I were to kill this bitch, it wouldn't matter."
After that, she crouched before me like a grim reaper.
She ordered others to hold my mouth open.
Then, stitch by stitch, she began sewing my lips shut.
Every puncture of the needle and every pull of the thread sent waves of excruciating pain through my body.
Blood dripped, forming a pool around me.
Those few minutes felt like an eternity.
Unable to open my mouth, all I could do was let out muffled and agonized whimpers.