My chest heaved with fury. "Austin, get your facts straight. She started—"
Before I could finish, Kathy threw herself into his arms, sobbing.
"Austin, it's all my fault! I was just trying to help Pearl clean her studio, and I accidentally ruined her painting. She said she'd sell me to the red-light district! She called my mother a whore and said the apple didn't fall far from the tree!"
Her voice cracked, tears streaming down her face—the picture of wounded innocence.
"I can take being hit. I can take being yelled at. But why does she have to drag my mother into this?"
Austin didn't ask for my side. Didn't investigate. He simply believed her.
His gaze turned frigid. "Pearl, when did you become this person? I'm disappointed in you."
I wanted to scream.
Even with Austin defending her, I refused to back down. For three days, Kathy scrubbed and swept like the servant she'd pretended to be.
When it was over, Austin acted as if nothing had happened. He just sighed—light, dismissive.
"That temper of yours, Pearl. When will you learn to let things go? It was just a painting."
"You've had your revenge. Let's move on."
I was naive enough to believe we had.