Her eyes reddened on cue, big, heavy tears rolling down her cheeks.
"I... I'll help you look! I'll help you find it!"
She began to laboriously turn her wheelchair, craning her neck to look under the sofa and into the crevices of the cabinets.
Her performance was flawless—the pitiful, disabled girl trying to appease the unreasonable villain.
Jessica couldn't stand it. She stepped forward to mediate.
"Madam, please don't be anxious. It must have fallen somewhere."
"Ms. Henson isn't well. Please don't scare her."
Watching the two of them perform this synchronized routine made my stomach turn.
"Get out."
I pointed a trembling finger at Sarah.
"Take your things and get out of my house."
Sarah recoiled, staring at me blankly as her tears flowed harder.
Jessica hurried to push the wheelchair toward the door.
"Ms. Henson, you should go back first. Madam is in a bad mood today."
At the doorway, Sarah turned back, her voice choked with sobs.
"Jasmine, please don't be angry. When I get home, I'll make my brother buy you an exact replacement!"
"No—make him buy ten!"
A cold, sharp laugh escaped my lips.
She always knew exactly where to stick the knife.
After she left, I called Simon.