“I used to think he was the high-school heartthrob, but now? Total scumbag.”
“It’s pathetic, really. Acting all aloof when you’re just mooching off a rich woman.”
Even our homeroom teacher looked disgusted. “Ethan, don’t ever tell anyone I taught you. I don’t associate with people who lack morals.”
The murmurs and criticisms from the crowd attracted more onlookers, many snapping pictures and recording videos.
I took off my designer jacket, worth millions and tossed it in the trash. Facing Logan, I kept my voice steady. “You punched me without knowing the full story. Pretty lawless of you.”
Logan sneered. “What are you gonna do about it? You came here in my wife’s car, practically begging to get hit!”
He turned toward the Rolls Royce behind me, his face contorted with anger. “There’s nothing worse than a man who lives off women” He pulled out his keys and scratched “Mistress Deserves Death” onto the car door.
I glanced at the words and said, “Soon, you’ll realize how ironic that phrase is.”
Logan laughed bitterly. “You’re still running your mouth? You shameless loser!” He picked up a brick and smashed it against the car—first the windows, then the hood, leaving dents and shattered glass.