She told him I bullied her mother at home. That I ruined her clothes.
That I'd forced her to kneel and serve me like a maid.
I thought the truth would speak for itself. I never bothered to defend myself.
Until the day I finally finished the painting I'd worked on for two years.
I was about to have it framed. I stepped out for just a moment.
When I came back, it was covered in ink.
Kathy stood nearby, ink bottle in hand, looking insufferably pleased with herself.
"Two whole years you spent on that painting. Let's see how you'll show off in front of Austin now."
I was livid. My hand flew before I could think, cracking across her face.
"You're always spreading rumors that I make you work like a servant," I said coldly. "Fine. For the next three days, you'll actually be one. Clean up my gallery until it sparkles."
But the moment the words left my mouth, the door burst open.
Austin strode in, his brow furrowed. Without a word, he pulled Kathy behind him.
"Pearl, can you control that temper of yours for once?" His voice was ice. "Kathy tries so hard. Yes, she comes from a difficult background—but why do you insist on targeting her?"