Vengeance of the Mafia Heiress

"Are you out of your mind?" Ryan snatched my phone and smashed it onto the floor, shattering the screen. "It was a joke, Isabella. Stop abusing emergency legal and medical resources just because you can't handle a little fun."

By then, my lungs felt entirely sealed shut. Black spots swarmed my vision. I clutched my throat, curling into a miserable ball on the floor.

"I'm not... pretending... Ryan... my throat is closing... call an ambulance..."

Something in my graying complexion finally made him hesitate. His eyes flickered with a sudden, uneasy doubt.

But Jenna intercepted him instantly. She wrapped her arm through his, clinking her whiskey glass against the table with a lazy smirk.

"Isabella, stop ruining Ryan’s big night. He just made junior partner at Chicago’s most prestigious law firm. You just hate that the spotlight isn't on you for once, don't you? Does the tacky little rich girl think she can buy her way into being the center of attention? Just because your dad has cash from whatever shady, low-class business he runs, you think you can play the fragile princess here?"

Every agonizing attempt to inhale felt like swallowing shards of glass. My chest heaved violently.

Ryan and Jenna had been inseparable since childhood. Every single time Ryan and I had a date, Jenna would conveniently show up. Every time I voiced my discomfort, Ryan would use the same dismissive line: "Jenna is my childhood friend. Stop being so insecure and toxic."

And Jenna would chime in with her sweet, toxic smile: "Ryan is like a brother to me, sweetie. I’m just looking out for him."

Just last week on a live stream with their friends, they casually laughed about the times they used to sleep in the same bed, bragging about how they knew each other's exact underwear sizes.

When I confronted him about how deeply disrespectful that was, Ryan went completely cold. He told me I was being a paranoid, uncultured prude, while Jenna laughed behind my back, whispering that a girl from a new-money, trashy background simply didn't understand how "secure, modern adults" behave.

Now, Jenna squatted down to my level, patting my cheek with a patronizing grin.

"Oh, I get it. You're used to your dad’s tacky entourage bowing down to you. Tonight belongs to Ryan, and since no one cares about your family's cheap wealth here, you have to throw a dramatic little fit."

The other people in the VIP lounge chuckled. Someone even pulled out a phone, aiming the camera right at my face.

"Pathetic," Ryan muttered, taking a step back to distance himself from me entirely.

My lungs screamed for air. I couldn't form words anymore. Steadying my trembling frame, I began to drag myself toward the exit, desperate for a breath of fresh air.

Jenna’s mocking laughter followed me.

"What's wrong? Running away to tell your dad? Is he going to try and buy the restaurant to soothe your ego?"

More cruel laughter erupted around the room.

Just as my fingers brushed the edge of the doorframe, Jenna lunged forward, grabbed my ankle, and violently yanked me back. My face slammed hard against the heavy wooden table leg. A deep bruise immediately began blooming across my cheekbone, and my lip split wide open, pouring fresh blood down my chin.

Jenna waved over a waiter, ordering a bottle of peanut-infused satay oil from the kitchen. She grabbed my jaw, forcing my mouth open, and poured the thick, deadly liquid straight down my throat.

"It’s suffocating in here. Our little drama queen has been rolling on the floor too long. Let's give her a real drink."

Pure terror flooded my system. The massive second dose hit instantly.

Driven by sheer survival instinct, I violently thrashed upward, kicking out blindly. My shoulder slammed into a nearby serving cart, sending heavy ice buckets and wine glasses crashing to the floor in a deafening explosion of shattered glass.

I clawed at my neck so hard my fingernails tore into my skin, leaving bloody streaks. My lips rapidly turned a horrifying, bruised purple, and my entire face bloated, darkening to a sickly, suffocating blue-gray.

I collapsed backward, my chest heaving in violent, unnatural spasms, producing a horrific, wet rattling sound—the terrifying noise of someone drowning from the inside out.

The onlookers finally stopped laughing. The room went dead silent as they backed away, shifting uncomfortably.

"Wait... look at her face... is she actually having an anaphylactic shock?"

Ryan’s face went completely bloodless. He took a panicked step toward me.