I supported myself against the doorframe, laughed silently, and tears streamed down my face.
"Marcus Abbott, Lily is dead."
"She died five years ago, that snowy night..."
"Do you still remember where you were that night?"
Marcus Abbott's face turned deathly pale.
"I was sleeping... with Sophia Pruitt."
That sentence fell like a huge rock, crashing into dead silence.
Marcus’s face darkened.
He stormed onto the stage, seized my shoulder, and hurled me aside.
“Alex! You’re a lunatic! You just can’t stand seeing Sophia doing well, can you?”
I crashed into the leg of the piano. A sharp, blinding pain tore through my lower back, cold sweat instantly soaking my clothes.
I didn’t make a sound—only clutched my right hand tightly, as if letting go would kill me.
“Drag her out!”
Marcus pointed at me and roared at the security guards.
“Don’t let her make a spectacle of herself here. Throw her into the lounge!”
The guards rushed over, hoisted me up, and dragged me backstage.
As we passed Sophia, she spoke in a low, venomous whisper.
“See that? In Marcus’s heart, you’re not even fit to shine my shoes.”
“Your hand is ruined. You’re ruined too. Just go die.”
The lounge was dark.
I was tossed onto the floor.