Chapter 2

Nina's POV 

I sat on the edge of my bed, staring down at my hands. Every few seconds, I looked over at the door, waiting. 

Every time I closed my eyes, all I could see was Steven holding Lacy, kissing her forehead like she was the most precious thing in the world.

He used to hold me like that. He used to tell me I was his whole life.

I snorted. 

“A lying bastard. That's what he is.”

Maybe I felt a little foolish for never seeing this side of him. 

A knock sounded at the door.

I instantly closed my eyes for a brief second, wiped all the emotion off my face, and opened them back up, letting my gaze go blank and unfocused. I stared straight at the bedpost.

"Come in," I called out softly.

The door pushed open. Footsteps tapped against the floor, loud and arrogant. I didn't need to see her face to know who it was, but I looked anyway—my eyes fixed slightly past her shoulder.

Lacy walked in, holding a steaming bowl of soup on a small tray. She had a look of disgust on her face. I still remember how this same look had been on her face on the day she had pushed me into the brook. 

She walked right up to me, her shoes clicking loudly on the tiles.

"Here's your soup," Lacy said. Her tone was  completely disrespectful, not a single trace of how a real servant would speak. But I ignored.

She held out the tray. I reached out with trembling hands, pretending to search blindly in the air for the handles. Lacy chuckled under her breath, deliberately moving the tray an inch away every time my fingers almost touched it, playing with me like a cat with a mouse.

"Oops. Right here, blindy," she whispered.

My chest burned with rage, but I forced myself to stay calm. I finally placed my hands on the bowl and lifted it onto my lap. The smell of the chicken broth hit my nose.

Lacy leaned down, her face just inches from mine. She looked at my motionless eyes, testing me. I didn't blink or react. I just kept my eyes wide and dead.

Convinced I couldn't see a thing, Lacy let out a nasty, triumphant laugh. She leaned right over the bowl, pulled back her head, and spat directly into my soup.

A thick blob of her saliva landed right in the middle of the hot broth.

"Enjoy your lunch," Lacy sneered, stepping back with her hands on her hips, waiting to watch me drink her spit.

Now I was even more furious.

Two years ago, this woman stole my vision and ruined my life. Today, she was standing in my room, sleeping with my man, and spitting in my food while Steven was on her side. They thought I was a pathetic, defenseless creature they could walk all over forever.

Something inside me snapped. The soft, gentle girl who used to cry in the dark was gone.

I grabbed the heavy porcelain bowl with both hands. Before Lacy could even react, I slammed it onto the floor with all my strength. It shattered.

Hot soup and sharp porcelain shards exploded across the floor, splashing all over Lacy’s expensive leather shoes. She shrieked, jumping back in shock.

"What the hell are you—"

Before she could finish her sentence, I pushed myself off the bed, stepped right over the broken mess, and swung my arm back.

My hand landed on her face with a slap. 

My palm hit her cheek so hard my own hand stung. Lacy’s head snapped to the side, and she stumbled backward, crashing into the side table. She grabbed her face, her eyes wide with total disbelief and horror.

"You bitch!" Lacy gasped, her voice shrill.

Well, looks like the facade is off. The maid would not call me that.

The door slammed open, and Steven rushed inside, his eyes wide with panic. 

"What happened? What was that noise?"

He stopped dead in his tracks when he saw the shattered bowl on the floor and Lacy clutching her bright red, swelling cheek.

Steven looked at Lacy, then looked at me. A sudden flash of panic crossed his face. He took a fast step toward me, his voice suspicious.

"Nina... can you see?" Steven asked, his eyes searching my face intently.