The rope was carelessly knotted to the railing, Snowball’s small body dangling, twisting helplessly in the air with each desperate cry. Every sway threatened a deadly plunge.
“Snowball!”
Clara’s voice tore through the music as she bolted forward.
“Oh my! The mistress is back?”
Vanessa’s saccharine voice laced with ridicule cut the air. Instead of stopping, she whipped out her phone, angling the camera gleefully. “Adrian, look at it! Isn’t it hilarious? Swinging like a little toy! Hahaha!”
Adrian actually chuckled, his arm tightening around her waist. Behind gold-rimmed glasses, his gaze drifted over the terrified cat before resting on Clara. There was no guilt in his eyes—only indulgence, as if Vanessa’s cruelty entertained him.
A memory pierced through Clara’s chest. Three years ago, Snowball was just a kitten. Adrian had placed it gently in her arms and said, “Clara, when I travel, it’ll stay with you. Look at its eyes, blue like yours—pure, dependent.” He had fed it, cleaned after it, even teased that he’d raise the cat just because she loved it.
Now that tenderness mocked her, a blade driven into her heart.
“Adrian, are you still human? Put Snowball down!”
Her voice trembled as she dashed for the stairs.
Vanessa’s smile snapped. She slammed her wine glass aside, seized a vase from the entrance, and hurled it. The porcelain burst at Clara’s feet, cold water and shards scattering across the floor.
“Why are you so fierce?” Vanessa shrieked, jabbing a finger at her nose. “Who let you barge in? You disgust me!”
She flounced back to Adrian, clutching his arm like a spoiled child. “Adrian, why did you let her return? Didn’t you say this would be our home? I hate her. I don’t want to live under the same roof with her.”
Her tone shifted into self-righteous indignation. “I’m with you because I like you. I don’t care if you’re married, but I won’t be hidden. I want all of you. What’s the point of her existing? If people find out, won’t they just call me your mistress? I’m not anyone’s shadow—I’m independent!”
The audacity of her words, twisting her intrusion into a declaration of victimhood, seemed to intoxicate Adrian. His eyes shone with admiration, as if her arrogance were strength, her selfishness courage.
He nodded eagerly, coaxing, “Okay, okay, Vanessa is right. I was wrong. I shouldn’t let her get in your way.”
Without sparing Clara a glance, he lifted his phone. “Security, come and escort Miss Winter out.”
Clara froze, staring at him as though seeing him for the first time. For this woman, he was not only condoning cruelty to the pet she cherished like family, but also discarding his own wife like trash.
Two uniformed guards strode in, faces blank, moving toward her.
“Wait!” she cried, fighting their grip, her gaze locked on Snowball, still trembling on the staircase. “My cat—give Snowball back to me!”
“Cat?” one of the guards repeated flatly, as though it were nothing more than an object.
