Chapter 5

That evening, Sarah was at her condo, trying to unwind.

The doorbell rang. It was Mike. Alone this time.

"We need to talk," he said, pushing past her into the living room.

"You have a lot of nerve showing up here after your performance today, Mike."

"My performance? You humiliated me! And you need to apologize to Brittany, she's devastated."

Sarah stared at him. "Apologize to Brittany? For what? For needing my own equipment? For her inciting you to harass me at my job?"

"She lost a huge opportunity because of you," Mike insisted, his voice rising, "She said you're just envious of her youth and her influencer career, that you're trying to control me."

He was parroting Brittany's words, the phrases were so obviously not his own.

"Envious? Mike, I have a career, a successful one, that I built myself, while you're still figuring things out with my help."

"That help was just a way to control me, to show off how much better you are!"

The accusation, so baseless, so cruel, hit Sarah hard. All those years of support, twisted into a power play.

"Get out, Mike," Sarah said, her voice trembling slightly.

"Not until you give me money for the damage to Brittany's career, and I want that watch back, it was a mistake giving it to you."

Sarah had already decided to return the watch, it felt wrong on her wrist now. She had it in her hand, ready to give it to him if he'd just been reasonable.

"Here," she said, holding it out, "take it, I don't want it anymore."

As he reached for it, his eyes narrowed, his movements suddenly aggressive.

He lunged, not for the watch in her outstretched hand, but trying to snatch it away with force.

Sarah stepped back, surprised by his sudden aggression.

He shoved her, hard.

She stumbled, lost her balance, her arm flailing out.

It crashed into the glass-topped coffee table.

A sharp, searing pain shot up her arm as the glass shattered.

Mike froze, staring at the deep, bleeding gash on her forearm. Blood welled quickly, dripping onto the floor.

For a moment, shock flickered in his eyes.

Then his phone buzzed in his pocket. He glanced at it. Brittany.

He looked back at Sarah, at the blood, then his eyes darted to the smartwatch still in her other hand, now spotted with her blood.

He snatched the watch.

"Mike..." Sarah whispered, the pain making her dizzy.

He didn't say a word, just turned and walked out, leaving her bleeding on the floor.

A few seconds later, her phone chimed with a new text message.

It was from Brittany.

A photo of Brittany's wrist, adorned with the luxury smartwatch.

The caption: "Looks like you finally got what you deserve. Thanks for the gift, hag! 😉"

Sarah stared at the message, the screen blurring through a haze of pain and disbelief.

This was the point of no return.