I Saved the School Beauty, She Made Me a Criminal

"Call an ambulance! Now! My mother is—"

"Five more minutes." Olivia checked the time. Her voice was ice.

She refused to budge. In her mind, if we walked out that door now, the bad luck would cling to the entrance and ruin Spencer's business.

Looking at her, I felt nothing but bile rising in my throat.

She was repulsive.

I snapped.

I grabbed a heavy wooden chair and smashed it against a decorative pillar. Wood splintered and flew.

"You won't let me save my mother? Fine! Then I'll tear this place apart!"

"Let's see who breaks first!"

If she wouldn't let me leave, I would carve a path out.

Olivia stared at the debris, her chest heaving. Her face—usually beautiful—twisted into something hideous.

*Heh.* In her heart, Spencer Delgado was a god. His restaurant opening was more important than my mother's life.

"You're being unreasonable! Your thinking is archaic. It's just a modeling gig—was it necessary to get so agitated that she fainted?"

*CRASH!*

*CRASH!*

*CRASH!*

I kept smashing. Furniture. Vases. Plates. Everything within reach.

Olivia grabbed a chair and brought it down on my head. Pain exploded in my skull. I crumpled to the floor.

Blood trickled into my eye. Through the red haze, I looked up at her.

She wasn't looking at me like a husband.

She was looking at me like I had murdered her father.

"Smash it! Go ahead! I'll call the police and make you pay for every cent." Her voice dropped to a hiss. "Damn it, your mother just passed out from anger, didn't she? Good. I hope she dies from it."

The bystanders watched with glee, hoping for more drama. Not a single person stepped forward to help. Most were Spencer's friends. The rest were too busy ogling Olivia's exposed skin.

The commotion finally drew the man himself. Spencer Delgado sprinted down from the VIP box on the second floor.

"What the hell is going on? Who is trashing my shop on opening day?"

"It's him!" A bystander pointed at me.

Spencer's eyes darkened. "Christopher Dickerson. Are you sick?"

He strolled over, a sneer curling his lips. "Why smash my shop? Are you that obsessed with me? Even if you die, you want to drag me down?"

A harsh laugh scraped out of my throat. "The culprit who ruined your shop is the person who won't let me take my dying mother to the hospital."

Spencer glanced at my unconscious mother. Not a shred of humanity crossed his face. He smirked and turned to Olivia.

"You did well. They're definitely faking it. This is clearly a coordinated shakedown."

He addressed the room. "First, he comes to cause trouble. Now, he uses a fake fainting spell as an excuse to destroy my property." A dismissive wave of his hand. "Boys, teach him a lesson."

At his command, the security guards descended on me.

I curled into a ball, shielding my mother with my body. Fists and boots rained down on my back.

Through the gaps in my arms, I saw her face. Eyes tightly shut. A single, silent tear leaking from the corner of her eye.

Her hand—which had been gripping mine—went limp and slipped to the floor.

Olivia stood frozen, watching. I saw her waver. A half-step forward. A flicker of conscience battling her obsession.

"Olivia! Make them stop!" My voice cracked. "Mom is dying! She loved you like a daughter—how can you do this to her?"

"Don't listen to his nonsense." Spencer's hand landed on her shoulder, smooth and steady. "Don't sympathize with him. It's all an act."

His words froze her in place.

"Damn it," she muttered. Her eyes hardened again. "I knew you were lying."

In that instant, whatever love I had left for Olivia Swanson turned to ash.

A roar tore from my chest—raw, primal, pure rage. Ignoring the pain, I scrambled up, grabbed a jagged shard of broken vase, and slashed it through the air at the guards surrounding me.