I grabbed the water pitcher from the table.
Without a moment's hesitation, I tilted it, and a stream of water poured down, drenching the home-cooked meal—the cilantro, the beef, the broth, and the bread, everything was soaked.
Bella let out a piercing scream.
Her chair toppled backward as she scrambled away, her face turning sheet-white.
Arthur's fork froze in midair.
He stared down at the ruined meal, his brows knitted into a tight knot.
I expected him to yell at me.
I expected him to shove me, just like he did the night before.
But I didn't expect what happened next—he suddenly stood up, raised his right hand, and slapped me hard across the face.
The force of the blow sent me stumbling sideways.
My head slammed against the wall with a dull thud, a sound that echoed inside my sk
