Brenna grabbed my hand, her eyes red and wild with desperation.
“Hit me!” she insisted. “Please! Just hit me! Hit me—make it hurt. Maybe it’ll make me feel better.”
Her voice trembled as she began to lower herself to the floor, clearly intent on slamming her head down. Just as her forehead was about to strike, a hand slipped between us.
Endrick cupped her forehead gently with one hand, stopping her just in time. Then, with the same eerie calm, he helped his trembling, sobbing secretary back to her feet.
He turned to me with a composed, unreadable expression.
“The dead can’t come back to life. Keepsakes are just things. There’s no need to punish the living over something that’s already gone. And Brenna already admits she made a mistake.”
His tone was detached, almost indifferent, like this was just something trivial.
And somehow, I was left standing there, made to feel like the petty one.
He moved in front of her protectively, shielding her with his body as if I were the one going too far.
“Just stop making things harder for her,” he said, voice low but firm. “She’s already burdened enough.”
I couldn’t even respond. Not a single word left my mouth.
Apparently, as long as Brenna played the pitiful victim, everything was my fault.
From the time she stole my earrings, to the painting she took without asking.
From when she shattered our wedding photo, to when she stormed into my home like she was the wife.
And now, to this—breaking the last thing my mother had left me.
Through it all, Endrick only ever asked me to forgive her. He still wanted me to be the bigger person.
My mind buzzed like static. My throat closed, and my fingers began to tremble with fury I could no longer contain.
I turned my eyes toward Brenna, still sniffling, still weeping in Endrick’s arms.
And then—I stepped forward without hesitation.
I seized her by the hair and slammed her head straight into the wall.
Her scream tore through the air.
Before she could recover, I kicked her in the knee with every ounce of strength I had.
This time, she crumpled to the floor, landing on her knees.
“Apologizing isn’t done like that,” I said coldly, my voice like steel.
I drove my foot down hard onto her knee and yanked her head back by the hair before slamming her face into the floor.
A loud crack echoed.
Then—her scream, raw and high-pitched, ripped through the room. Blood began to pool beneath her forehead, staining the floor red.
I stood over her and said, loud and clear, “That—that’s how you apologize and admit you’re wrong.”
My vision burned red with rage. I grabbed another fistful of her hair, ready to smash her head down again, but Endrick lunged forward and caught my wrist.
“Let go!” he barked.
“In your dreams!” I snapped, teeth bared.
He gripped my arm with both hands and began to forcefully pry my fingers off her scalp. I felt the skin tear under my nails, pain shooting up through my nerves like fire—but he didn’t even blink.
“Don’t take it too far, Olivine!” he warned through gritted teeth.
Too far?
I stared at him and laughed from sheer rage.
“Do you know what separates a human from an animal, Endrick?” I said, voice low and shaking with rage. “Humans can reason. We know right from wrong. We’re supposed to have morals. We’re not supposed to act on emotion and blindly protect whoever we like!”
My voice rose. “You’ve made your choice to protect Brenna?” I shouted. “Fine!”
I didn’t care about the pain anymore. I didn’t care that blood was now dripping freely from my fingertips.
I forced my hand free and clawed it down Brenna’s face.
The nail snapped off. And with it—the carefully curated, picture-perfect face that had filled her Facebook feed day after day—was ruined.
Finally, Brenna broke down completely.
And me? I started laughing.
“You know what this is?” I said, pointing down at her, voice thick with rage. “This is karma.”
“Let me remind you of something, Endrick—” I looked straight at his stunned face then at Brenna shrieking and covering her face in horror. “I’ve never pretended to be a saint. You should’ve known that from the start!”
“Endrick!” I shouted, pointing at him. “You’ve really pissed me off this time!”
“I’m telling you right now—” I pursed my lips, my teeth grinding before I completely snapped, “if I don’t destroy you, I’m not a Mortwyn!”
