A moment of silence passed and I finally spoke, my voice steady. "Thirty thousand. I'll pay you first."
"But this isn't over. I'll ask the police to investigate."
"If I'm at fault, you keep the thirty thousand. If not, you'll return the money and apologize publicly."
I reached for my phone to make the transfer, but before I could, Dominic reached out and knocked it from my hands.
He jabbed a finger toward my face, his tone dripping with contempt. "Thirty thousand? Do you even have that much? Stop pretending."
"If you had thirty thousand, why would you be asking me for money today?"
"Arthur, are you planning to borrow it online?"
"I never imagined you'd fall this far."
The phone shattered on the floor.
I turned to leave, but they blocked my way, their eyes full of derision.
Celia Ricci locked the private backroom door. He smoothed the front of his jacket twice, then spoke, his words formal and cold. "We're waiting for the authorities. No one can leave until this economic dispute is resolved."
I knew beneath his polished tone, it was all just to placate her "important guests."
Everyone's eyes turned to me, their judgment heavy in the air.
I had no choice but to sit in the corner, silent and waiting for the feds to arrive.
As my gaze swept over the crowd, I locked eyes with Adriana.
Her gaze was sharp, filled with satisfaction.
I froze for a moment. Was she truly enjoying watching me suffer, the same person who had once helped her?
I had been Adriana's benefactor.
It was something she had proudly proclaimed time and time again.
Ever since I sponsored her through school, she had always been deeply grateful. Whenever she had a free moment, she would come to my house to clean, cook, and even do the dishes. Though I had household help, she insisted on doing it all herself. Even at Christmas, she would kneel to kiss my hand in respect, a gesture I tried to stop. But she insisted it was a tradition from the village where she'd grown up, the old country way of honoring a patron.
I once believed that good deeds would be repaid, that I had found a grateful, virtuous girl.
But over time, I learned that even a small act of kindness could fester into a deep resentment.
The more I gave Adriana, the more her jealousy bloomed. The more I offered her, the more entitled she felt, as though I hadn't given her nearly enough. The more humble and meek she appeared in my presence, the more she sought to trample me underfoot and reclaim the dignity she had lost with me.
She wasn't just ungrateful. She was a scheming, false woman who would do anything to climb, no matter who she hurt.
Her frequent visits to my house gave her the perfect chance to get close to Dominic.
I had no idea when their affair had started, but by the time I discovered it, my pregnancy had already advanced. For the sake of the baby, I endured in silence.
But I never imagined that on the day I was about to give birth, Adriana would threaten to slit her wrists, forcing Dominic to abandon me on that cold, desolate overpass.
The memories still burned so vividly in my mind and I couldn't help but let out a deep, sorrowful sigh.
I didn't know when it happened, but suddenly, Adriana had squeezed her way to my side.
Her voice was a venomous whisper against my ear. "Sister Arthur, the tables have turned now."
"All the things you once had, I have now."
"And you... you have nothing."
I gave a slow nod, indifferent. "Including that scum, Dominic? He's all yours now. I don't want him anymore."
"When I used to sponsor you, you'd fawn over my second-hand clothes and bags."
"I didn't expect you'd be so eager to take on a second-hand husband."
The corner of her mouth twitched, that tiny hitch before she slipped back into her wounded act. But the act never came. Her face twisted in fury and in a flash, her hand shot up to slap me.
I caught her wrist with ease.
She sneered bitterly. "No matter what, I've won."
"You and Dominic are divorced. Your child didn't survive."
"And you'll never see a penny of Dominic's inheritance."
"By the way, Sister Arthur, you don't know, do you? When I used to bring you coffee, I secretly slipped abortion pills into it…"
The words hit me like a slap to the face.
My mind reeled, the painful memories flooding back. The excruciating stomach cramps the day of the miscarriage, the child I never had the chance to meet.
Anger surged through me like wildfire.
I stood up, trembling with fury, and slapped Adriana across the face.
But before I could even process what I'd done, Dominic was already on me.
He shouted, his voice full of rage. "Arthur, how dare you hit her?"
He kicked me in the chest with brutal force.
I gasped in pain, the air knocked out of my lungs as I crumpled to the floor. The marble was cold against my cheek. Somewhere in the room a glass clinked against a table and no one moved to stop it.
I couldn't breathe, couldn't even make a sound through the agony ripping through my chest.
But Dominic wasn't done. He grabbed a fistful of my hair and yanked me up, his voice cold and commanding.
"Apologize to Adriana."
I opened my mouth to speak, but no words came.
Dominic shoved me with all his might, sending me crashing into the corner.
I struggled to rise, but before I could even get my bearings, Adriana kicked the back of my knee, forcing me to stumble. I collapsed, my knee throbbing with sharp, unrelenting pain.
Around us, the associates and brokers did nothing. Some even seemed to watch with eager anticipation, as though ready to join in on the torment. Their laughter, when it came, landed a beat late, after they'd checked who else was laughing.
Just then, the door to the private backroom was flung open.
Celia Ricci's voice changed entirely. The formality drained out and something close to fear replaced it. "Don Valente. You've arrived."
The room went still. Conversations died mid-syllable. I felt the silence press against my skin like a change in altitude.
In that instant, tears welled up in my eyes.
My husband came.
