Chapter 3
I grabbed him by the collar and hauled him halfway off the floor, forcing him to meet my gaze.
"Harvey," I said, my voice calm, every word squeezed out through gritted teeth.
"When Drusilla was on the operating table, barely clinging to life after her C-section, where the hell were you?" I demanded, my voice cold and sharp.
Harvey's lips quivered, but not a single word came out.
"When Drusilla was up all night, her breasts swollen and aching so bad she was sweating and couldn't sleep, where were you?" I pressed, my voice cold and unyielding.
He started avoiding my gaze, his eyes flickering away from mine.
"When Drusilla stopped using her pain pump and forced herself out of bed, enduring the agony of her incision just so she could take care of the baby. Where were you then?" I pressed, my voice cold and merciless.
His face gradually drained of color.
I yanked him closer, my grip tightening on his collar.
Our faces were barely four inches apart.
Staring straight into his eyes, I could see the terror reflected in his pupils.
"And now, when your mother's jabbing her finger at Drusilla, calling her a disgrace, calling my nephew a bastard, and shoving those divorce papers right in her face. Where were you?" I demanded, my voice icy and relentless.
"Where were you hiding?" I pressed, my tone sharp and unforgiving.
With every word, my voice got colder.
Each line hit harder, heavier, like a punch to the gut.
Harvey was in full-blown panic mode.
He shook his head frantically, babbling incoherently.
"I... I'm not... My mom, she... I..." Harvey stammered, totally lost and desperate, his words tumbling out in a mess.
"Shut up," I snapped, cutting him off cold.
I didn't let him finish his useless rambling.
"Let me ask you just one thing," I said, my voice cold and unyielding.
"When it comes to all this today, whose side are you on, your mom or my sister?" I pressed.
That question was like a dagger, plunging straight into Harvey's heart.
He looked at me, then glanced over at Margaret, who was eyeing him like a predator ready to pounce.
His face was twisted with indecision and cowardice.
Margaret saw Harvey wavering and instantly regained her bravado, shrieking from the sidelines.
"Harvey! What are you afraid of him for?" she screeched.
"He's the one who hit you! He's the one at fault!" Margaret shouted.
"Tell him you're with your mother! The Thorne family does not want this worthless woman!" she yelled.
She barked out the last few words, each one hammered out for emphasis.
Harvey visibly flinched, his whole body trembling.
He shot me a desperate look, his eyes pleading for mercy.
It was like he was silently begging me, "Don't force me to choose."
I let out a cold, humorless smile.
There wasn't a shred of warmth in it.
"Fine," I said, my voice icy.
"I see how it is."
I released his collar.
Harvey thought I was letting him off the hook and finally relaxed.
The next second, my fist smashed right into his face.
A heavy thud echoed.
Harvey howled and went sprawling, blood already dripping from the corner of his mouth.
This time, Margaret completely snapped.
"My boy!" she wailed.
She threw herself at Harvey, helping him up.
And when she saw the blood at the corner of his mouth, she spun around and glared at me like she wanted to tear me apart.
"I'll fight you to the death!" she shrieked.
She charged at me, her bony hands outstretched, trying to scratch my face.
I sidestepped easily, dodging her wild swing.
At the same time, I reached out and grabbed her wrist in an iron grip.
Her wrist was dry and bony, and once I clamped down, she couldn't budge an inch.
"Let go of me, you little punk!" Margaret shrieked, struggling and cursing.
She flailed and cursed, her voice shrill and frantic.
I ignored her completely, locking my gaze on Harvey.
Margaret had just helped him up, and his eyes were wide with terror.
I shook Margaret's hand off and advanced on Harvey, step by step.
Harvey stumbled back in panic until his back hit the cold wall.
"D-Don't come any closer..." Harvey stammered, his voice trembling with fear.
I stopped in front of him and slowly raised my hand.
Harvey shut his eyes in fear.
But I didn't hit him.
Instead, I gently fixed the collar I'd just wrinkled.
I gave his shoulder a gentle pat, almost like I was consoling a friend.
Then I bent down, leaning in close to his ear.
I spoke so only the two of us could hear.
"I'm giving you one last shot," I said, my voice icy and firm.
"Right now. Tell your mom to apologize to my sister."
My voice was low.
But to Harvey, it was like a bolt of lightning, cracking right in his ear.
His eyes flew open, wide with shock, staring at me like he couldn't believe what he'd just heard.
You wanted me to make my mom apologize to Drusilla? Harvey thought, completely stunned.
No way that was ever gonna happen, he panicked, his heart pounding.
Margaret had always ruled the Thorne family like a tyrant. Her word was law.
Getting her to say sorry? Might as well ask her to move a mountain.
Harvey's face drained of all color in an instant.
I straightened up, looking at him cool and collected, not the least bit rushed.
I didn't hurry him, didn't say another threatening word.
I just stood there, silent and steady, like the most patient hunter in the world, waiting for his prey to walk right into the trap on its own.