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.