How did he know these secrets?
Her brother had sworn that no one else would ever find out.
Russell’s voice dipped, his breath fanning against her skin as he leaned in.
Panic flared in Brittany’s chest. Her fingers twitched, brushing against the small self-defense knife in her pocket, an old habit from her time in the psychiatric hospital.
Her pulse pounded as she fought against his grip, her fingers fumbling for the handle. Then, in a desperate surge, she drove the blade straight into his palm.
A sharp cry tore from Russell’s throat. The scent of blood, hot and metallic, cut through the cloying air.
"You, Brittany! Are you insane?!"
His grip slackened, but before he could fully recoil, she struck. A brutal slap cracked across his face, forcing him back.
Blood smeared her palm from the struggle, branding his cheek with a deep, crimson print.
The sight was jarring, shocking.
Like a cornered beast, Brittany lashed out, raw instinct taking over. Fear and fury melded into one, a desperate retaliation against the looming threat of being overpowered again.
Brittany swung her bag wildly, striking wherever she could, her knife clenched in a white-knuckled grip. She lashed out with reckless desperation, kicking, thrashing, unleashing every ounce of humiliation and fury bottled up inside her.
The uproar drew a crowd.
And when Weston pushed through the sea of onlookers, this was the sight that greeted him,
His delicately sheltered younger sister, hands smeared with blood, a knife in her grasp, forcing a man nearly a head taller than her into a panicked retreat.
"Brittany! Have you lost your mind?!"
At the sound of his voice, she lifted her head.
Her eyes, hollow, distant, didn’t even register him. Instead, her gaze drifted past him, locking onto Theresa.
Theresa paled instantly. Without hesitation, she shrank behind Weston.
Again.
Brittany’s grip tightened around the knife.
Russell’s sudden appearance wasn’t random. It wasn’t a coincidence. Every piece of this moment had been orchestrated, leading her straight into their trap.
A cruel realization settled over her like a suffocating weight.
She was just an orphan. How was she supposed to fight Theresa? To fight the Quinn family?
But as the thought coiled around her mind, something even darker slithered in.
What if… all of this wasn’t just Theresa’s doing?
What if Weston had arranged it, too?
Brittany stepped forward, slow and unsteady, her gaze dull, exhausted. She didn’t want a fight, just an explanation.
But the moment she reached out, another hand caught her mid-air.
Weston.
His grip was firm, his expression thunderous. Did he think she was going to strike Theresa?
As if she would dare lay a hand on his beloved while he stood guard.
"Brittany! Haven’t you caused enough trouble? Don’t you owe me an explanation?!"
So, it was true.
The slap echoed like a gunshot.
“This is my explanation.”
Gasps rippled through the crowd.
Theresa stiffened, eyes widening in disbelief.
A vivid red handprint bloomed across Weston’s cheek, tinged with the faint scent of blood.
His first instinct was to check her hand. Was she hurt?
But she yanked it back before he could touch her, stepping away as if even his presence sickened her.
Then, realization dawned. The blood wasn’t hers.
Weston’s expression darkened.
"Brittany. Have you lost your mind?"
She lifted her gaze, cold and steady.
"Brother," she murmured, each word deliberate, cutting. "Have you forgotten? You were the one who sent me to the psychiatric hospital."
Russell’s parents arrived late, only to find their son trembling like a beaten dog, his face pale with fear. Their hearts clenched at the sight.
"Oh my! What happened?! My poor boy!"
"I just wanted to introduce myself to Brittany, and out of nowhere, she pulled a knife and stabbed me! Dad! Mom! I told you we shouldn't marry a lunatic who came from a psychiatric hospital! Even Theresa couldn’t fix her! She’s completely insane!"
"And disgusting enough to harbor a secret crush on her foster brother!"
The flash of cameras erupted like a ruthless thunderstorm, capturing Brittany in her moment of disgrace, perhaps the greatest humiliation of her life.
