Chapter 5
1073 Words
Felicia's POV
The knock on the door was loud and forceful, sounding around the room like a warning bell. I froze on the bed, hugging the blanket tight around me.
My pulse rose as I watched him walk toward the door, his movements stiff and furious.
"Who the hell is it?" He barked and yanked the door open. The following moment seemed like a slap on my face.
Sophia.
There she was, standing in front of the door, fuming with anger. Her beautiful, flowing hair was yanked away by the corner of her hand. She wore an amazing black dress that hugged her shape tightly. I didn't see her again after my last encounter with her in BWR with my mate.
A part of me felt happy; this was payback, but then I was in bed with a stranger, her fiancé, whom I didn't know. I felt more like a slut than I actually was. I was sleeping with him for the money anyways.
Her penetrating glance went beyond him and landed directly on me. Her eyes widened briefly, disbelief and rage colliding in her expression. "Felicia?" Her voice was sharp and filled with hatred.
"What the hell are you doing here?”
I quickly got up to my feet, the blanket slipping from my shoulders as humiliation crashed over me. The reality of the situation hit like a freight train. Sophia wasn’t just someone from my past. She was his fiancée.
The tattoo on his arm. It all made horrifying sense now.
He turned back to me, confusion etched on his face. “Wait… you two know each other?” The man looked back to catch me quickly getting my stuff.
Sophia didn’t give him a chance to catch up. She stormed into the room, her heels clicking against the floor like a judge’s gavel.
“Know her?” she hissed, glaring at me. “This… this is the pathetic little orphan I used to take pity on. And now, she’s throwing herself at my fiancé like some common—”
The word hit me like a tidal wave. “Little orphan? Pathetic?” Those words stung my skin, and I clawed my fingernails deep into my hand so that I could feel the warmth of blood trickle out of it. Sophia has taken my man, and here she was talking down on me like I was even some charity case she had been helping all her life.
“Sophia, stop.” His voice was firm but carried no real weight. It was clear who held the power here.
I could feel tears prickling at the corners of my eyes, but I refused to cry. Not in front of her. Not in front of him.
“Sophia, it’s not—” I tried to speak, but the words were caught in my throat. What could I possibly say? That I hadn’t known he was her fiancé? That I’d only come here out of desperation? Or that I had purposely hunted her fiancé down just to retaliate for what she did to her, but after how many years?
Life was just too cruel to me.
She laughed, a cold, mocking sound that made my stomach twist. “Oh, this is priceless. Felicia, the virtuous little church mouse, selling herself for scraps. Have you forgotten all about the holy part when your parents were alive?” She taunted me, and I felt a loss of words once more.
I glanced at the check still sitting on the table, the numbers taunting me. It was supposed to be my lifeline, my escape from this nightmare. But now it felt like a brand of shame.
“I didn’t know,” I whispered, my voice barely audible.
“Didn’t know?” she spat. “You didn’t know you were screwing my fiancé? Or did you think he’d leave me for you? Oh, wait.” Sophia said instantly. “Is this payback?”
I stared at her face, not sure of what to say. I was about to defend myself once more when I heard his voice again.
Sophia, that's enough," he stated again, this time with a harder tone. He moved to block her way, but she easily sidestepped him, her gaze still fixed on me.
"You're pathetic," she scoffed. "Always have been, always will be." Something inside of me cracked. The shame, the rage, the awful weight of everything I'd been through—it all bubbled over.
Without thinking, I lunged for the check and grabbed it off the table. "Pathetic, maybe," I murmured, my voice quivering with wrath and anguish.
"But at least I'm not a heartless witch who thrives on other people's misery." Her eyes widened in surprise, and for a brief moment, I thought she might slap me.
Instead, she laughed again, a cruel, bitter sound that echoed in my ears as I fled the room.
I didn’t look back. I couldn’t. The walls of the hotel seemed to close in on me as I rushed down the hallway, clutching the check like a lifeline. My mind was a whirlwind of emotions—shame, anger, confusion.
How did it come to this?
By the time I stumbled into the street, my legs felt like jelly. I barely remembered how I got home. All I knew was that I needed to get the money to Madam Theresa. Once I did, this nightmare would be over.
When I finally reached her place, I felt a glimmer of hope, fragile but persistent. I handed her the check, my hands shaking.
“Here,” I said breathlessly. “This should cover everything.”
She frowned, glancing at the piece of paper. Then her expression shifted, her eyes widening in disbelief.
“This…” She trailed off, flipping the check over.
“What’s wrong?” I asked, panic creeping into my voice.
She turned it toward me, her finger pointing to a line at the bottom. My breath caught in my throat as I saw it.
Zeros.
So many zeros.
I felt the tension in the room as I stared at the check I was holding.
It wasn’t just enough to cover the bills. It was more money than I’d ever seen in my life.
“You weren't supposed to get this much. How did you get this money?” Madam Theresa asked, staring at the check at the back of my message with my eyes wide open.
- Writer
