“Aah!”
Penelope screamed as new pain flared atop her old injury, her cheek stinging from the slap that left her face twisted in shock.
“What the hell are you doing?!” Benson snapped, his voice sharp with anger and disbelief.
Penelope stared at Anastasia, eyes wide with outrage and confusion. She couldn’t believe it—Anastasia had struck her right in front of Benson! How could she? How dare she?
Anastasia offered a careless, almost playful smile, tilting her head slightly. “Just now, I didn’t even touch her, and yet she accused me of shoving her. You seemed ready to scold me, cousin, so I thought I might as well give her a real reason to complain. No point letting myself be the victim, right?”
Her gaze turned icy as she looked at Penelope. Did Penelope really think that just because Benson was here, she could bully her into submission?
Keep dreaming.
Sure, Anastasia wanted to mend things, but after everything she’d been through, she’d made herself a promise: no matter what, she’d never let herself be wronged again.
—Well, except maybe for Harrison. But then, her husband would never let anyone hurt her in the first place.
“Are you still planning to yell at me, cousin? If not, I’m leaving.”
With that, Anastasia grabbed her purse and strode out of the private dining room without a backward glance.
Penelope was left speechless, her mind reeling. By the time she snapped out of it, Anastasia was long gone, and fury sent a tremor through her whole body.
What had she even come here for today? Not only had she failed to wring an apology from Anastasia, she’d ended up being scolded and slapped instead!
“Ben…” she choked out, her eyes red and brimming with unshed tears as she looked up at him, radiating wounded innocence. “You saw what she did, right? That’s how Anastasia treats me—even in front of you! Just imagine how much worse she is behind your back…”
“She’s driving me crazy! Now my parents are so upset, they’re actually considering giving up on me… Ben, what am I supposed to do?”
Anastasia didn’t really buy his explanation. More likely, he’d noticed she wasn’t home and had tracked her down using her phone’s location. But she didn’t call him out on it. She was happy to let that little tracking app remain their unspoken secret—it gave him peace of mind, and she didn’t mind.
“I left in a rush and forgot to tell you—sorry…” She climbed into the car, apologizing with a twinge of guilt.
“It’s fine.” As soon as his petite wife settled beside him, Harrison’s expression softened, all his edges blurring with tenderness.
He glanced out the window, his dark eyes unreadable, and told the driver, “Let’s go.”
Back at home, Anastasia’s composure finally began to crack. She’d kept her cool in front of Benson and Penelope, but it hurt, being treated that way by people who were supposed to be family. How could she not care? How could she not feel hurt?
A wave of sadness crept in, and she braced herself, not wanting Harrison to notice and worry. So, the moment they walked through the door, she forced a cheerful voice. “I’m going to take a shower, okay?”
She turned to head upstairs, only for a strong hand to catch her wrist and pull her straight into Harrison’s arms.
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