And poured it directly over my head. The shock hit before the pain. The burning liquid ran down my face, neck, and shoulders.
I gasped, frozen in disbelief, unable to move or speak. Behind me, Helen laughed. “Oh, Andrew, honestly—you’re too dramatic!”
Not a gasp.
Not concern. She laughed. Andrew’s face was blank, cold, almost bored.
“You have ten minutes to get out of my house,” he said, every word dripping with contempt. For a moment, no one breathed. Then something unexpected happened—not out of emotion, but out of clarity.
I quietly reached under the table, pulled out my bag, unzipped it, and laid a stack of documents neatly on the linen tablecloth. Helen’s smile faltered. “What kind of nonsense is this?” she snapped.
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