Chapter 2

This time, I was ready.

Instead of freezing in shock, I moved. I kicked my chair back and sidestepped, a single, fluid motion. The hot coffee splashed harmlessly onto the empty seat and the floor. The piercing gun, which she' d intended to "accidentally" graze my arm with, jabbed into the empty air.

The clatter of the mugs shattering on the tile floor echoed through the shop.

"Oh my god!" Sabrina shrieked, collapsing into a heap of feigned distress. "I'm so sorry! I tripped!"

Ethan shot up from his chair, his face a mask of concern. He rushed to her side, completely ignoring me. "Sabrina, are you okay? Did you get burned?"

"I'm fine, I'm fine," she sobbed, clutching her hand. "I'm just so clumsy. I almost hurt Jocelyn!"

I stood there, my heart pounding a steady, cold rhythm. I pulled out my phone. Before she' d "tripped," I had pressed record.

"Actually, you didn't almost hurt me," I said, my voice cutting through her performance. "But you did say this."

I hit play.

Sabrina's saccharine voice filled the sudden silence of the coffee shop. "...it's just so... corporate... Must be nice. Ethan works so hard for his money, it' s good you have a job that lets you... you know, afford the finer things."

Every head in the cafe turned towards us. The passive-aggressive jealousy in her tone was undeniable when played back in the quiet room. Sabrina' s face went from tear-streaked pity to pale shock.

"What is this?" Ethan snapped, turning on me. He helped Sabrina to her feet, positioning himself between us as her protector. "You were recording her? Jocelyn, what the hell is wrong with you? She was just making conversation!"

"She was insulting me," I stated calmly. "And then she tried to assault me."

"Assault you?" Ethan scoffed, his voice rising. "She tripped! You're being cruel and paranoid. She's a sweet girl, she would never hurt anyone. Look at her, she's terrified of you!"

Sabrina, right on cue, buried her face in Ethan's shoulder and let out another heart-wrenching sob. A few customers started murmuring, their gazes shifting from Sabrina to me with open disapproval.

The narrative was forming, just as it had before: I was the cruel, elitist bitch, and she was the poor, innocent victim.

I saw the trap closing in. But this time, I wasn't the one who was going to be caught in it.