Chapter 3

The sharp sound rang out, and the entire scene fell into dead silence. Everyone's eyes turned to me. No one had expected that I, who had been taught from childhood to always be gentle and graceful, would publicly strike someone.

Grayson had not expected it either. He froze in place, staring at me blankly.

Seeing this, Maeve immediately became indignant. "He raped me, and now, his fiancée hits me too! I can't live like this. I might as well die!"

She clutched her injured cheek and moved as if to throw herself against the wall. She looked resolute, but her movements were slow and deliberate. Her eyes kept darting toward Grayson as she waited for his reaction.

The acting was terrible, but Grayson could not see through it at all. He rushed over anxiously to hold her and comfort her, promising to give her justice.

I bent down and picked up the broken pieces of the bracelet one by one. My finger was cut by a sharp edge, and bright red blood dripped onto the floor—as my heart had been for years.

Grayson did not notice the blood on the ground or the wound on my hand. He shoved me hard. "Calla Finley! You actually hit someone! Look at yourself. Where's the refined lady you're supposed to be? You're nothing but a shrew!

"Besides, Maeve was wearing it just fine. If you hadn't charged out and scared her into falling, the bracelet wouldn't have broken. Instead of reflecting on your own actions, you resorted to violence. You call yourself a socialite? Even a common woman has more sense than you!"

After ranting at me, Grayson scooped Maeve up in his arms and carried her toward my house.

The onlookers stared at me with varying expressions. Some pitied me, others looked gleeful, and a few just seemed entertained. The humiliation was unprecedented, as if I had been stripped naked for everyone to gawk at.

I clenched my fists. The shards from the bracelet dug deep into my flesh.

All my life, I had done everything perfectly, never displeasing anyone. I was always the one being praised and complimented.

Yet now, when I was simply defending my own rights, he made me out to be the unreasonable one!

…

Back inside the house, Grayson held an ice pack and gently pressed it against Maeve's face. His brows were deeply furrowed with worry, as if she had contracted some serious illness.

While tending to her, he shot me a venomous look.

"Look what you did. You've ruined her beautiful face. Aren't you going to apologize to her?"

My whole body trembled.

He truly pampered Maeve to the extreme. Maeve was slapped for provoking me, which was exactly what she deserved. Yet not only did Grayson humiliate me in public, but he was also forcing me to apologize.

Years ago, when I was six months pregnant and one of his drinking buddies kicked me and caused me to miscarry, he showed no sympathy. Instead, he blamed me for being incompetent and failing to protect his child.

What was more, before I had even finished recovering from the loss, he forced me to apologize to that friend. His reason was that the sight of all that blood had given the man nightmares for nights on end, so I owed him an apology.

I took a deep breath, pushing down the resentment in my chest. I gathered the bloodstained fragments without acknowledging either of them.

Maeve raised her eyebrows with exaggerated magnanimity, acting as if she were above such petty disputes. She said softly, "Forget it. It's all my fault anyway, right? After all, I broke the bracelet first, so I deserved to be hit."

She said it casually, but Grayson immediately frowned and scoffed. "Even if you did break it, you did nothing wrong. Wearing jewelry from dead people is morbid anyway. It's better that it broke. She had no right to hit you, no matter what.

"Calla, apologize right now. Otherwise, this wedding is off. Someone with no manners has no place in the Thatcher family!"

Maeve was thrilled at the prospect of Grayson calling off the engagement. Her eyes gleamed with cunning as she said, "Forget it, Grayson. You two have been engaged since childhood. If you break it off, it'll hurt your reputation.

"I just need her to apologize. That's all. But I'm not someone who accepts cheap gestures. A few empty words won't cut it. Unless… Calla, you agree to let me and Grayson have a wedding. No, wait. I want you to plan it yourself."

Maeve's brows lifted slightly, her eyes bright. Her bold, uninhibited demeanor was fatally attractive to Grayson, who had been raised under strict rules his whole life. His eyes were filled with affection as he cupped Maeve's face and smiled.

"Our engagement is only a verbal promise. I don't care about it at all. But you're so thoughtful, always considering what's best for me. I can't ignore that."

He turned to look at me, his gaze gradually turning cold. "Do as Maeve says. You'll still have the title of Mrs. Thatcher anyway, so you're not losing out. Maeve has been with me without any recognition or status. The least she deserves is a wedding."

As soon as he said that, the room erupted. Even Dad, who had been silent until now, changed his expression.

"Grayson Thatcher, even if your family did me a favor once, you can't bully my daughter like this. Making her plan a wedding for you and your mistress? Do you have no decency? I'm telling you, my daughter will never..."

Just as Dad was about to reveal that I had chosen someone else, I raised my hand to stop him.

"Dad, don't. I'll do it. Not only will I plan it, but I'll even make sure it's a grand, spectacular affair."