“No Clara, you mean nothing to him; his heart belongs to me. Damian belongs to me; he only married you because you reminded him of me. You are just an alternative; now that I am here, you are no longer needed, okay, so pack up and leave,” she whispers yelled closer to my ear.
When I didn’t reply, it seemed to infuriate her.
“Answer me when I am talking to you,” she snapped at me, but I didn’t even glance at her; I refused to give her the satisfaction of seeing me in pain.
“I said look at me,” she repeated, but this time, I felt her hand pinch my side; I frowned in pain.
She giggled beside me.
“Do you get what I am trying to say? You are just a dumb alternative,” she said just to spite me, her nails digging into my sides.
Normally her little attack would have meant nothing to me, but she precisely pinched the sewed-up area.
I was overwhelmed by pain.
“Let go of me,” I cried when the pain was unbearable; pushing her weakly by the shoulders, Ana stumbled backward exaggeratedly, falling into Damian’s arms.
I didn’t notice him, and as she fell, she purposely hit the boiling water on the stove, and the contents spilled on my hands down to my stomach.
I screeched in pain.