Nina
Scarlett’s gifts felt like a searing poison on my skin. Each carefully selected item was a calculated insult - a reminder of her distinguished superiority, her attempt to reconcile me with expensive trinkets.
My fingers traced the delicate silver bracelet, my nails digging into my palm, transforming the gesture of admiration into a silent show of rage.
My body still ached from Jack’s brutal encounter, but the physical pain was nothing compared to the strategy taking shape in my mind.
I dressed carefully, choosing a deep burgundy dress that concealed my bruises.
When the maid knocked, interrupting my seething thoughts, I took a moment to compose myself. My reflection in the mirror showed a woman perfectly poised, betraying nothing of the volcanic fury churning beneath the surface.
