The impact made me gasp. Cream and sponge smashed into my nose and mouth, frosting streaking my cheeks as I stumbled back. The twins’ laughter bounced off the walls like gunfire.
I tried to move, tried to get away—
Vale swung his leg out, blocking me like a trap.
I hit the floor hard, and the pan of oil I’d used earlier—still sizzling—tilted and spilled.
It poured down my left arm.
The pain was instant. White-hot. Savage.
A scream ripped out of me before I could stop it.
Above me, the twins stood there grinning, watching like it was entertainment.
“This is just the start,” Vale said, voice flat.
Ian nodded, like they’d rehearsed it. “Leave now. Because next time, you won’t be lucky enough to walk away.”
They spoke in perfect unison, like two little monsters raised on hate.
The housekeeper rushed in at the sound, her face going pale the moment she saw me sprawled on the floor—covered in cake, shaking, clutching my burned arm.
“My God…” she breathed. “What did you do?”
“They had it coming,” Ian said with a careless shrug. “She’s a snake. She killed our mother.”
Vale didn’t even bother arguing. He just turned and walked out, Ian right behind him, both of them leaving me there like trash on marble.