Where Petals of Vengeance Bloom novel Chapter 352

Claire’s phone crashed to the floor with a sickening crack, splintering into pieces that scattered across the carpet.

“See? I told you it was junk. I barely even touched it and it just fell apart! Did you pick this thing up from a dumpster or something?”

The taunt sent another wave of laughter rippling through the group.

To them, Claire was nothing more than an easy target—someone to mock for their own amusement.

But the moment Claire saw her phone—Sean’s gift to her—shattered beyond repair, something inside her snapped.

She couldn’t even say what brand it was; all she knew was that it was from Sean, and she cherished it.

Now, watching it broken at her feet, anger surged through her like wildfire.

Without thinking, she lashed out, her hand swinging hard across Mac Brown’s face. The sharp sound of the slap echoed around the private room.

“And who do you think you are? Maybe take a look in the mirror before you insult someone. You look like a bloated pig—who’d ever want your garbage phone?”

The words poured out in fury, and before anyone could react, Claire landed slap after slap, the smacks ringing out in quick succession. Mac Brown’s greasy face turned bright red, raw and stinging.

No one, least of all Mac Brown, expected Claire to fight back.

Everyone else just stared in stunned silence, jaws practically hitting the floor.

In their memories, Claire had always been the quiet one, the girl who rarely spoke, who spent every spare minute buried in her books. Even during school breaks, she never joined her classmates for outings.

For all three years of high school, Claire kept to herself. If she’d been plain-looking or just an average student, she might have faded into the background completely.

But she was beautiful and smart, and her refusal to make friends or join in made her stand out all the more.

By the time everyone snapped out of their shock, Claire had slapped Mac Brown six times.

Finally, Mac reeled back, his surprise morphing into rage.

“You crazy bitch! You dare hit me? You’re dead!”

With a beaming smile, the waitress wheeled the cake to Miss Shaw and said in a clear, cheerful voice, “Miss Mandy, Grandeur Hotel has prepared this cake for you. Happy birthday!”

Miss Shaw’s smile froze.

Birthday? But her birthday wasn’t today.

It was still two weeks away.

Did the class heartthrob arrange this?

Yes, that must be it.

It had taken years since graduation for their group to find time to meet again, and who knew when the next reunion would be? He must have arranged the cake in advance, knowing how rare this occasion was.

After all, he was now Foster & Co.’s star sales manager—someone with enough clout to reserve Suite 101 and order a cake with a single phone call.