Chapter 3

"What is all this commotion?" Linda Evans, the housekeeper, appeared from the house, her expression a careful study of surprise, but her eyes held a knowing, complicit gleam as she looked at her daughter.

Brittany, emboldened by David's support and her mother's presence, preened. "Mom, this crazy woman just attacked David! She's obsessed with him."

Her friends, sensing a shift in power, renewed their taunts.

"Look at her clothes," one sneered, gesturing at Sarah's simple dress, which was, in fact, custom-made and deliberately unbranded. "Probably from some discount store."

"Yeah, trying to pass off that cheap rag as something special."

"Old hag!" another girl shrieked, "Trying to ruin Brittany's youth and her birthday!"

They jostled her, pushing her backward. Sarah stumbled, catching herself before she fell. David watched, his face impassive, allowing it. He didn't lift a finger. He didn't say a word to stop them.

Each shove, each insult, was a fresh stab of betrayal. This was her home, these were people who worked for her, and her husband stood by, sanctioning her humiliation.

The expensive, understated fabric of her dress felt like a mockery against her skin, a symbol of the hidden life they were trampling. They had no idea who they were dealing with, no concept of the lines they were crossing.

A cold, hard fury began to solidify within Sarah, pushing past the shock and the pain.

She looked directly at David, her voice low and steady despite the chaos. "You will regret this, David. Every single moment of it."

Brittany laughed. "Ooh, scary! What are you gonna do, old lady? Complain to your cats?"

One of Brittany's friends, the one who threw the drink, shoved Sarah hard again, making her gasp.

David just watched. That passive cruelty was the final straw.

This wasn't just about infidelity anymore. This was about disrespect, about a fundamental lack of character, about a profound, calculated cruelty. He was letting this happen. He was part of this.

The thought of her grandmother's bracelet on Brittany's wrist, a symbol of family and heritage now adorning this cheap, vulgar display, ignited a different kind of fire. It wasn't just personal; it was an affront to everything she represented, everything her family had built.

Her father' s words echoed in her mind, "Some people only understand consequences, Sarah."

He had no idea how right he was.