Chapter 5

"Hurry up and stop wasting my time. I have other things to do. We were busy before you walked in cause trouble." Stacey said, crossing her arms impatiently as she stared down at me.

My fingers hovered over the metal pull of my zipper, trembling, before I finally pulled it down. My eyes kept darting toward the entrance door, praying with every beat of my heart that the doors would swing open and my father would walk in. I hesitated, holding my breath, doing everything I could to delay pulling the dress off my shoulders.

"Stop wasting our time, you trash!" Mrs. Katrina suddenly yelled, her face contorting with rage.

Before I could react, she l kicked me hard in the stomach. The sudden impact knocked the wind right out of my lungs. A sharp gasp tore from my throat as I fell backward, crashing onto the cold marble floor and curling up to shield my abdomen.

"Make her stand!" Mrs. Katrina commanded, snapping her fingers at the two security guards standing nearby.

The heavy-set men stepped forward, grabbed my arms without a hint of gentleness, and yanked me back onto my feet. My legs wobbled under me as I gasped for air.

"Now get rid of it!" she commanded, her voice cutting through the quiet ballroom like a whip.

I closed my eyes in bitter, overwhelming shame, forcing my quivering hands to pull the fabric off my shoulders and down over my hips. The dark dress pool at my feet, exposing my clad body to the dozens of wealthy onlookers in the hall.

I stood there shivering in just my dark brassiere and a pair of mid-thigh shorts. I felt a faint, fleeting sense of relief that I wasn't standing there in my panties, but the bitter humiliation of being stripped bare in front of a crowded room still burned through me like hot acid.

"This is way too much. No one deserves this level of public embarrassment." A high-profile businessman called out from the edge of the guests, his brow furrowed in disapproval. "You should have just had security send her away!"

Mrs. Katrina snapped her head in his direction, her gaze dripping with arrogance as she swept her eyes across the room. "Anyone who is against me or my daughter is against the entire Orton Group. You all know the consequences of crossing us!"

A crowd began to whisper and murmur. The businessman clamped his mouth shut. Not a single person dared to voice another protest.

"Take off your earrings and bracelets as well," Stacey commanded, stepping closer with a triumphant smirk.

My hands shook as I reached up to unhook the silver hoops from my ears and unclamp the thin chain from my wrist, dropping them numbly into her waiting palm.

"Good girl," Stacey cooed mockingly. "Bella, take all of these and trash them."

Bella smiled wide, her eyes glittering with spite as she gathered my dress and jewelry, marched over to a large trash bin near the service entrance, and dumped them right into the garbage.

"You... you are going to regret this " I choked out, wrapping my arms tightly around my chest in a desperate attempt to cover my exposed cleavage.

"Regret?" Mrs. Katrina laughed, adjusting the diamond necklace around her own neck. "Your father will only thank us for teaching you proper lessons in discipline."

I stared at her through my wet lashes. "Just keep this same energy when he actually shows up." My voice was dangerously steady despite my shaking frame.

Stacey tilted her head, her smile widening into something truly sadistic. "Oh, one more thing. Since today is your birthday, it wouldn't be very nice if you didn't get to eat some cake, would it?"

"Pull her down," Stacey commanded the security guards, gesturing toward the floor. "Let's feed her some cake."

The two guards grabbed me immediately and shoved my shoulders downward, forcing me back onto my knees against the cold tiles. Stacey stepped over to the elaborate, multi-tiered display cake sitting near the center of the stage and sliced off a massive, messy fistful of thick white frosting and dense cake.

She strode back over to me and reached down with her left hand, clamping her fingers tightly around my throat.

"Open your mouth!" she ordered, tightening her grip around my neck until the pressure cut off my breath.

When I gasped for air, she shoved the huge handful of cake directly into my mouth with a wicked smile. The heavy frosting coated my tongue and pressed into the back of my throat, sending me into an immediate fit of coughing. I gagged, choking on the dense sweet mass as I struggled to breathe, my chest heaving violently against the constraint.

I writhed and twisted under the iron captivity of the security guards, but their heavy hands held my shoulders clamped down like steel clamps. Tears poured down my face in hot streams, mixing with the frosting as Stacey began ruthlessly smearing the rest of the cake all over my face.

She rubbed the thick, sticky mess across my cheeks, my forehead, and into my hair, completely painting my face until I was covered from my forehead down to my jaw.

Around us, several of the spiteful office workers and staff burst into loud, mocking laughter, pointing at my degraded state as if it were the greatest entertainment of the evening. A few older guests in the back looked away, their eyes filled with pitiful sorrow, but fear kept them rooted to the spot, entirely unwilling to intervene.

Suddenly, a muffled vibration and the faint, familiar chime of a ringtone began sounding from deep inside the trashcan near the service door. Dad!

I don't need a prophet to tell me it was my father. I wanted to pick it up, but how would I do that? I couldn't move an inch. I was trapped on my knees, covered in cake and held down by guards like a criminal.

"Look at you," Stacey giggled, taking a napkin from a tray to wipe her messy fingers. "A true birthday princess."

Just as they began to laugh, the entrance door opened and a heavy metallic thud echoed through the grand entrance.

I wiped a layer of frosting away from my eyes with my shoulder, looked up toward the entrance, and a wide relieved smile spread across my painted face.