Damien grabbed Brigitta by the injured arm and dragged her toward the door.
The anesthetic had already worn off by then and the pain was searing. Brigitta struggled to break free from him. “Damien, let me go! I don’t even understand what you’re saying!”
His grip only tightened. “Still pretending, are you?”
She couldn’t break free and was half dragged towards Irene’s hospital bed. She tried to get up, but Damien soon held her down forcefully!
Irene sobbed on the bed. “Ms. Holmund, I’ve done everything I could to stay out of your way. Why would you still want to hurt me? Who else would send me seafood porridge when I’m allergic to it?”
Brigitta’s head snapped up, eyes locking onto the half-finished, still-steaming porridge beside Irene’s bed. “That wasn’t me! Why on earth would I send you food?”
Irene pointed at her. “The order slip had your name on it!”
Damien shouted, “Apologize to Irene!”
Brigitta shook her head fiercely. “Why should I? I didn’t do it. I won’t apologize for something I didn’t do. Since when have I ever been so generous as to bring your little kept woman porridge?”
At that, Damien’s hand slipped from her back, momentarily startled by her defiance.
Irene wept harder. “The proof is right there on the receipt! Are you saying I made it up?”
Damien frowned. “Irene would never lie. You've harassed her more than once! I’ve let it go, but now you’ve gone too far. Apologize to her!”
Brigitta forced herself upright, trembling with rage. “Even if it were me—wasn’t she the one eating it? Are you saying she couldn't tell there was seafood in that bowl? I thought she knew about her own allergies!”
Damien’s eyes narrowed. “Irene is too trusting to suspect anyone. And with the Holmund Family’s influence, you could've put this stunt easily even when this is a big hospital!”
Her voice cut like ice. “I have no interest in investigating what your woman eats—or what else she’s allergic to!”
Damien gave a cold laugh. He snatched up the steaming bowl and poured it directly over Brigitta's head.
“You still refused to apologize right? Then you should learn your lesson another way.”
The scalding heat seared her scalp. Brigitta gasped, as the sticky broth sliding down her skin. Worse, the wound on her forehead flared with fresh pain and torn up the wound open again.
The once-proud woman, always so composed, now stood humiliated before Damien and Irene.
Irene stopped crying and watched the scene with a smug expression.
Brigitta couldn't take it anymore and raised her hand, slapping Damien hard!
Slap!
Her eyes blazed. “I warned you. And yet again, you raised your hand against me—on nothing but baseless accusations! Damien, I owe you nothing. Not even bowing to your mistress. Never!”
Damien stood frozen, clearly unprepared for her retaliation. When Brigitta swung for another slap, he caught her wrist, crushing it in his grip.
“Feel better now? Brigitta, you've got the guts to stir up problem here. I won’t let you hurt my woman and walk away without consequence. If you don’t apologize right now, I’ll end our engagement this instant.”
Brigitta couldn't even care about her current pain. Caught up in anger, she looked at him with bloodshot eyes. “Let go of me!”
Thi time, Damien immediately released her, but the force was so great that he threw her to the ground.
Humiliated, nails digging into her palms, Brigitta thought bitterly of how she should have accepted Kaspian’s offer to leave bodyguards with her.
Wiping her face—uncertain whether it was tears or porridge—she forced herself to maintain her composure.
“You don’t need to threaten me with breaking the engagement. I’ll save you the trouble. I’m done with you, Damien. I want this engagement end.”
The man frowned in response. “Don’t play this stupid push and pull game with me. It only makes me despise you more.”
He then pointed to the door, towering over her. “Get out. Don’t disturb Irene’s rest.”
Brigitta’s mouth tasted of bitterness, her heart of hate.
She straightened her spine and stared at them both down.
“Listen carefully. I will never marry you, Damien. Whatever the two of you do from now on—none of it has anything to do with me.”
