Chapter 4

"I used to take it because my Dad turned against me. All because of you two," I said with every ounce of boldness left in my soul, staring directly into the eyes of Mrs. Katrina and Stacey. "Now, he's back to me. He threw this birthday party for me, and very soon, he will show up here and destroy both of you."

My chest heaved as I held my head high, turning my attention away from the glaring mother-daughter duo and looking sharply at my father's personal assistant.

"Pascal, tell them. What did my Dad tell you?"

Pascal straightened his designer suit jacket as he stepped forward. "Mr. Orton told me to prepare a magnificent gift for his daughter."

"And who is his daughter?" I asked, a confident, triumphant smirk tugging at the corners of my lips.

Pascal turned his gaze toward me, scanning my modest work clothes with a look of pure disgust, before slowly shifting his eyes over to Stacey, who was glowing in my multi-million-dollar diamond gown.

"You might be his biological daughter, Vicky," Pascal said. His voice was cold, distant, and dripping with condescension, "but Miss Stacey is the daughter Mr. Orton actually cares about. He doesn't care about you at all. So today's party is for Miss Stacey, not for an abandoned, pathetic girl like you. Stop imagining things you will never have."

Mrs. Katrina let out a soft, satisfied chuckle, a triumphant smile blooming across her face as Stacey proudly tossed her styled hair. The surrounding guests began to whisper among themselves, nodding as if everything had just been settled.

My jaw tightened, the blood rushing hot through my veins. "Pascal, you better remember every single word you just said when my father finally shows up. I know you're taking their side right now because you're terrified of getting fired, but when the consequences come, you will wish you had just been fired instead."

Stacey burst into a loud, shrill laugh that echoed off the high ceilings of the hall. "He's just telling the truth, Vicky! Nothing is going to change, no matter how desperately you hope for it. You will still be hated by Mr. Orton forever!"

"I actually thought you had suddenly gained some magical superpower to turn this party over," Mrs. Katrina said, taking a deliberate step forward, her expensive heels clicking loudly against the marble floor. "Stop being delusional. Open your eyes and look at yourself! Nothing is ever going to change your miserable fate. You are bound to remain a piece of trash, meant for us to step on forever."

"You can say whatever you want right now," I spat back, matching her deadly glare without backing down an inch. "In less than thirty minutes, both of you will be down on your knees, crying and begging for my mercy. But guess what? I won't forgive either of you."

Mrs. Katrina's face instantly twisted in burning anger, her aristocratic composure shattering. "How dare you!"

She raised her right hand to slap me across the face, just as Bella had tried to do moments earlier. But I was ready. I raised my hand in a flash and caught her wrist firmly in mid-air, locking my fingers tight around her skin. But before I could pull her back, a blinding pain exploded across the side of my face.

An unexpected, vicious slap came from behind my blind spot. Stacey had stepped in, swinging her palm hard against my cheek.

"Have you completely gone crazy?!" Stacey shrieked, clutching her own chest in dramatic horror. "Security! Get in here right now!"

Before I could recover my balance, two massive, heavy-set security guards rushed forward from the edges of the ballroom. They grabbed my arms forcefully, yanking them behind my back.

"You dare hold my hand, you filthy maid?" Mrs. Katrina smirked wickedly, watching as the guards pinned me completely helpless.

She stepped up close, pulled her hand back, and brought her palm cracking hard across my already burning cheek. The impact rattled my teeth, and a trickle of blood leaked from the corner of my mouth.

I thrashed against the iron grip of the men holding me, straining every muscle to break free and fight back. "Let go of me! Let me go!" But their hands were like steel cuffs; I couldn't free myself no matter how hard I pulled.

"You all will regret every single second of this when my dad shows up!" I choked out, glaring through a veil of furious tears.

Stacey just laughed and tilted her head. "We all know what will happen if he shows up here, Vicky. He will punish you ten times worse than we ever could. If I were you, I'd be praying on my knees that he doesn't show up at all."

"Things have changed!" I yelled. "All of you are going to pay for every single thing you've done to me!"

"Stop ranting and keep your mouth quiet, Slave," Stacey said, taking another step closer until she was standing directly in front of me.

She looked me up and down, her eyes scanning my modest clothes. "So, since you insist on showing up at my birthday party, I'm expecting a gift from you. But looking at you... you didn't come here to celebrate. You just came to cause trouble out of frustration."

"If she doesn't have a gift, that dress will do!" Bella chimed in from behind where she was still recovering, a malicious grin spreading across her bruised face.

Stacey's eyes lit up, a dark, twisted idea forming in her head as she locked her gaze on the dark, simple gown I was wearing.

"What are you thinking?" Panic surged through my chest as I realized the humiliation they were planning. "Don't you dare! Don't you dare touch my dress!"

"I'm so happy you already know what's coming," Stacey smiled and crossed her arms. "Now... give it to me."

"You want to strip me?" I whispered, my voice trembling with horror. "In front of everyone?"

"Yeah. I think It will be a nice way to entertain my guests all well." she said coldly.

My heart pounded hard against my ribs as I looked around the massive room, desperate for a miracle. I prayed with everything inside me that my Dad would walk through those doors right this second and save me from this nightmare.

I scanned the sea of wealthy guests standing in the ballroom, hoping, pleading mentally that even one person would have the heart to stand up for me. But nobody moved. Nobody said a word.

They just whispered among themselves in hushed tones, some looking at me with pitiful, sorrowful eyes, but none of them willing to risk crossing Mrs. Katrina. When my desperate eyes finally landed on Pascal, he quickly looked away, staring straight at the floor to avoid my gaze.

"So?" Stacey pressed, stepping even closer. "Are you going to take it off and give it to me yourself, or should I tell the guards to help rip it off you?"

Seeing that no one was coming to help me, and knowing the brutal guards wouldn't hesitate to tear my clothes to pieces, a heavy defeat settled over me. I slowly lowered my head.

"I'll... I'll do it myself." I whispered, my voice barely audible.

Stacey threw her head back and laughed, thoroughly enjoying my surrender. "I thought you were going to resist. I'm happy you know how helpless you are."

She gave a brief nod, and the security guards released their tight grip on my arms, stepping back just a few inches. With trembling fingers, I slowly reached behind my back toward the zipper of my dress, holding my breath, desperately praying that my Dad would show up on time and save me before it was too late.