Effie crossed her arms and said coolly, “Suzan, are you paranoid or something? You lost your baby, and now you want to blame that on me?”
No matter how you looked at it, Effie really couldn’t be held responsible—directly or indirectly—for what happened.
But Suzan had become obsessed with the idea. She was convinced that if she hadn’t run into Effie that day, her baby would still be alive.
If that were the case, she would have married Mitchell without a hitch.
Now, though, with the baby gone, Mitchell was already starting to drift away from her.
If she hadn’t begged him for ages, he wouldn’t have come with her today at all.
And now, as Suzan and Effie stood there confronting each other, Mitchell didn’t even bother to get out of the car. Pathetic.
At that moment, Lyman parked his car and strode over. Instinctively, he positioned himself protectively in front of Effie. “What’s going on here?”
Suzan’s voice came out shrill, almost hysterical. “Perfect timing. Keep your girlfriend in line—she’s trying to steal my boyfriend!”
Her words were like nails on a chalkboard, teetering right on the edge of madness.
Lyman shot her a frigid glare, his eyes like daggers. “Watch your mouth,” he said icily. “I won’t hesitate to make sure you never use it again.”
Suzan flinched, taking an involuntary step back.
Her retreat brought her up short against something solid.
Turning, she realized it was Mitchell standing right behind her.
In that instant, all her pent-up frustration and hurt surged to the surface. Eyes red, she pleaded, “Mitchell…”
His brow furrowed, but his tone was cold as he said, “That’s enough. Didn’t you say we had things to take care of? Let’s go.”
He let his gaze drift briefly to Effie before deliberately looking away.
Suzan noticed it. The way his eyes lingered on Effie—it made her want to scream. Jealousy and hatred wrapped around her like barbed wire, threatening to tear her apart.
And now, here she was.
“Miss Bagnold, right this way,” the doorman said warmly.
Suzan was taken aback.
She’d fully expected it would be nearly impossible to get inside, and had rehearsed a dozen excuses in case she had to force her way through. She never imagined it would be this easy.
Just then, Effie and Lyman caught up. Effie called out, “Wait a moment—I’m the guest Mrs. Lawrence actually invited.”
The doorman hesitated, glancing from Effie to Suzan. “Are you…also Miss Bagnold?”
“That’s right. I’m Effie.”
“Effie…” He repeated her name, but could only recall Mrs. Lawrence mentioning a ‘Miss Bagnold’—her first name had slipped his mind.
Suzan glared daggers at Effie, her voice trembling with rage. “Are you out of your mind? Can’t you be original for once? Do you have to copy everything I do?”
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