Pamela narrowed her eyes. Fabrício was trying to play the domineering macho again, but the leash of fear had snapped. Instead of trembling, Pamela felt a growing wave of nausea and hatred. Every minute that passed was a minute she spent weaving a strategy for revenge.
Fabrício would pay for what he had done to her.
Without Melissa noticing — she was too busy arguing with Dora about Josias — Pamela slipped out of the house to confront Fabrício on the street.
“What do you want now?” she demanded.
Fabrício’s gaze raked over Pamela’s body, the red dress clinging to every curve. His eyes didn’t look like those of a lover; they looked like a knife meant for stabbing.
Pamela didn’t flinch. She reached out and slapped him — not hard enough to leave a mark, but enough to snap him out of his tr
