Chapter 30
Bullying is a Sin
Fenella
Amy leads me to a polished wooden door and pushes it open. The room is small, with a simple bed and a table, maybe a guest room. I grip my shoulder bag tighter, trying to calm the sudden thrum of nerves in my chest. Stay calm. Don’t give her the satisfaction.
“Alright, tell me the truth now, Fenella. Did you get engaged to Alan just to get back at me?” Amy crosses her arms, chin high, lips pressed into a thin line.
“No,” I reply, my voice firm, though my fingers twitch slightly at my side. Keep it steady. Don’t flinch.
Her brow arches. “Then did you chase him knowing it would make me miserable, pretending to be my sister-in-law?”
“No.” I press my lips together for a fraction longer than necessary, hands clasped in front of my chest, mirroring her stance. She thinks she’s cornered me. Let her think she has the upper hand.
A short, humorless laugh rattles from her throat, sharp and high. “Don’t play innocent. You don’t love him. He’s pathetic. No one would want him if it weren’t for his money.” The corner of her mouth curls into that familiar smirk.
“Oh, Amy. I really feel sorry for you. Now I know where Alan learned that kind of delusion.” I frown, trying to hold my gaze steady, shoulders tightening. What a mess. I can’t believe she’s still this toxic.
“We’re gonna record this, Fenella,” the FBI commander murmurs through my ear cuff.
Amy tilts her head, eyes sharp. “Say whatever you want. You’re still that same naive girl from high school. Love? That won’t save you.” Her smirk stretches a little wider, predatory.
“Not with me. I didn’t fall for his money. I fell for his heart, for the sincerity he’s shown me all these years.” My jaw flexes with restrained irritation. If only I hadn’t fallen harder for Laird. Any woman would melt with the dedication Alan gives.
Her mouth twists. “Bullshit. Don’t lie. You went after him like every other woman would. Rich, hot body, handsome face. That ring,” she points at my finger, “is your price tag.”
“You’re wrong again. The body fades, the face wrinkles, and the money never lasts. This ring?” My hand rises steadily despite the tension curling in my chest. “It’s a symbol, nothing more. But what he’s built, he built with his own hands. At least he didn’t sell his soul like you.”
Amy laughs, sharp and high, her voice bouncing off the walls, then dissolves into a sharp exhale. She wipes at the corner of her eye, then slaps her palm against her hip with a sneer. Her eyes glitter with a venomous light, and there’s a flash of anger, quick and hot, but my hands stay folded.
“Oh, Devil. I don’t know how to pity you anymore, Fenella. You try to praise Alan and insult me. What a fool.”
She leans closer, rose perfume thick and suffocating. “You think all his success is from hard work? Wrong.” Her smile twists viciously. “Everything Alan has is mine. None of it exists if I hadn’t married Peter.”
“I introduced Alan to Peter. I pushed Peter to invest in Alan’s company, hundreds of millions that should’ve gone to my charity. I’m Peter’s legal wife. His money? Mine.” She punctuates each I with her palm pressed to her chest, the old high school habit she never dropped.
I grit my teeth, the heat rising in my neck, and press my palms to my arms to steady the tremor. “No, it’s not. Peter has nothing to do with Alan’s business. It’s all his own investors. I saw the shareholder chart online myself.”
She crooks a smile, eyes glinting, venom dripping from every word. “Duh. Those investors? Shells. Every single one belongs to Peter.”
My eyes go wide. That’s it. I nailed it. My mouth falls open when Amy finally says it out loud.
It’s just like the dorm days all over again: her nonstop bragging, taking every bit of credit, trashing everyone else’s success. It’s always Amy Schmidt. No one else ever measures up.
But it’s not enough. I need more. I hide my laugh behind a smirk. God, I’m so glad she hasn’t changed after all these years.
“No. That’s not true. I saw Gene’s shareholder list. There are investment firms, Alan himself, and Ms. Lola’s kids,” I say, frowning.
“Oh please, Fenella. Stop being stupid.” Amy’s voice cuts sharp, dripping with disgust. “I told you before. How can you still not get something this simple? All those investment firms belong to Peter. It’s all Peter’s money. Even the shares under Alan’s name—Peter’s. Alan owns nothing.”
“Keep it up,” the FBI commander hums through my ear cuff.
“That’s impossible. Even Gene’s shares are Peter’s money? How’s that possible?” I mutter, brow furrowed.
“You just don’t get it. It’s too complex for your rotten brain. That’s why I hated it so much when Alan made you Gene’s top model. How dare he waste my money on you?” Amy steps closer, teeth clenched.
“And now here you are, after seeing Alan’s fake success. You think you can squeeze more out of him. Now that you know it’s Peter’s money, I’m sure you’ll try to seduce him next.” Amy stomps forward, forcing me back until my spine hits the door.
Same pattern as always: corner me, trap me. The next thing will be a kick or a choke.
“No, Amy. I’m as sincere to Alan as he is to me.” I brace myself.
“Liar!” Amy shouts and lunges for my throat, but I’ve learned her moves. I duck fast and kick her shin.
Her scream rips through the room, raw and feral. For a second the sound is almost like music to my ears.
“You filthy, greedy bitch,” she snarls. Just when I think I’ve won, she grabs my hair and yanks me back against the wall.
“Let go!” I dig my nails into her wrist.
I don’t notice my neck exposed until it’s too late. Her fist slams into the side of it. Pain explodes up my ear. My neck burns, my ears ring, and all I can think about is whether the necklace and ear cuff are still attached. I pat my ear and touch my necklace. Both are still in place, thank God.
I crawl away, propping myself on my elbows, holding my neck to ease the pain, coughing as my body shakes. She steps closer, her shadow falling over me, that triumphant smile stretched across her face.
“You shouldn’t have kicked me. Violence only brings violence, doesn’t it?” Her leg lifts. The point of her heel aims for my face.
“Fenella?” The door bursts open. Alan’s head appears, and when he sees me curled on the floor, gasping, his face goes red. Amy freezes.
“What the hell?!” Alan shouts as he rushes in.
Amy steps back and shrugs. “She kicked me first. I just defended myself.”
“You liar!” Alan growls, shoving her aside before crouching next to me. His eyes scan me for injuries. “Are you okay?” His thumb brushes my jaw gently.
“I’m fine,” I rasp, throat burning.
“Or what? What the fuck are you going to do about it, huh?” Amy snaps, folding her arms.
Alan stands, fists clenched, face flushed to his ears. His teeth grind. His whole body trembles with rage.
“I swear I’ll destroy you,” he says, glaring. “I’ll make you pay for what you did to me and to her. I’m done letting this slide.”
“Oh, scary. Tell me the truth. You’ll dump her the second you’re done fucking her, right?” Amy’s hand creeps up his chest. Her voice turns sultry as she tries to seduce him, but he catches her wrist.
“I used to swallow all your crap,” Alan growls, voice low. “Not anymore. I’ll destroy you.”
I can barely breathe as I watch them. My heart hammers in my chest.
“Let me go! You’re nothing without me or Peter!” Amy spits, struggling.
“No, Amy. You’re the one who’s nothing without me.” Alan’s grin is cold.
“What the fuck?!” she shrieks, still fighting.
“I’m leaving this place with Fenella. With all the money you gave me.”
“Bullshit!” Amy snaps.
“All thanks to you. You taught me everything. I learned how to move that money from you. Without you realizing it, I’ve been draining your accounts dry. You should’ve treated your middlemen better.” His grin widens. A flicker of horror appears in Amy’s eyes.
“How dare you!” She swings a slap at him, but he catches that hand too.
Amy stares at her wrists, trapped in his grip. Her eyes widen when Alan leans close, a dark chuckle rising in his throat.
“Now that I think about it, I’m much stronger than you now. So, thank you.” Without warning, Alan headbutts Amy hard in the face.
Amy groans, stumbling back onto the bed. Her hands fly to her nose as blood spills down her fingers. No one hears her. Everyone’s too busy listening to Peter’s speech about donation drives in the ballroom. His voice booms through the speakers, and the crowd’s applause drowns out Amy’s cries.
“My nose! My nose is bleeding! You broke my precious nose! I just had it done last month!” she wails, tears mixing with blood.
“Come on, Fenella. We’re leaving.” Alan grabs my arm and pulls me up.
“I’ll kill you! I’ll tell Peter, and he’ll kill you both!” Amy screams, but Alan doesn’t even flinch.
“Move!” he says, tugging my arm. We rush for the door, but Amy lunges up and yanks my hair.
Not this time. I chop my hand right at her throat. She grunts, mouth gaping, gagging like she’s about to throw up.
“Take that, you bitch!” I snap, my voice hoarse.
“Come on!” Alan urges, pulling me toward the hallway. Amy dragging herself after us, her gold dress stained with blood.
“Get back here!” she screams, but when we don’t stop, she spins toward the ballroom. Alan and I dash into a long, narrow corridor.
“Where are we going?” I ask, breathless.
“Far from here.”
“Ah!” My heel slips, and I tumble hard, pain shooting up my ankle. “Damn.” I grimace, clutching my foot. I shouldn’t be running in these four-inch Oscar de Ragetti heels.
Alan stops and crouches beside me. “You okay? Come on, Fenella, we have to move. Can you stand?”
I grip his arm and try to get up. Pain spikes again. My ankle’s red and swelling fast. “I think I sprained it,” I say, wincing as tears sting my eyes.
“It’s okay. Get on my back. We need to get out before Amy tells Peter.” He crouches in front of me.
“I—I can’t. Just go. I’ll be fine,” I breathe out, shaking my head.