The Wrong Woman

Chapter 38

It was then Sally noticed the embroidery that Suzanne had yet to put away.

She was shocked to find out that Suzanne was insanely talented to the point that she could embroider a famous painting onto the sewing hoop. Not a detail was out of place, and the image looked as amazing as the real deal.

"Did you embroider it yourself?" Sally pointed at the embroidery while sounding jealous.

Suzanne quickly snapped out of her trance. She strode over to the embroidery and started packing it up hurriedly.

Her panic drove her to move as quickly as she could, but Sally was faster. The latter dug out a bottle of red liquid from her handbag and splashed it onto the embroidery hoop.

The sudden destruction shocked Suzanne to her core. She was unable to stop the liquid from seeping through the fabric, causing the pattern to be dyed red instantly.

Enraged by Sally's actions, Suzanne asked, "Have you lost your mind?"

Sally just smirked in response. Clearly, she couldn't care less about Suzanne. Afterward, she dumped the remaining liquid onto Suzanne's new dress.

Poor Suzanne was so stunned she froze completely.

She gripped her ruined embroidery so tightly that her hand trembled slightly. Tears blurred her vision as she stared at the dress on the bed, which was already stained red. The sight broke her heart.

Vera's gift that Suzanne had worked tirelessly on for half a month, as well as the first gift Nathan had given her, were all ruined.

If murder were legal, Suzanne wanted nothing more than to snuff Sally's life on the spot.

Sally tossed the bottle onto the bed before picking up the clean hem of the ruined dress just to wipe her dirty hands. The way she provoked Suzanne was effortless yet humiliating.

"Remember, you're not allowed to attend Grandma's birthday banquet," Sally warned, albeit carelessly. "Your identity will only bring nothing but shame to the Morrison family. Besides—"

Before Sally could finish her sentences, she got slapped twice in a row. The slaps were so loud that the atmosphere turned deathly silent.

Sally clutched her cheek, clearly in pain. She could only glare at Suzanne, a mixture of shock and rage now displayed on her face.

A moment later, she finally gritted out angrily, "How dare you hit me!"

Suzanne bit her lower lip while doing her best to stop her tears from falling. She didn't want to display her vulnerable and weak side in front of Sally, no matter what.

Then, she picked up the ruined dress and draped it over Sally's head forcefully. She wasted no time in rubbing the fabric against Sally's hair with all her strength.

"You ruined my embroidery and my dress! So, why can't I hit you in return, huh?"

Suzanne practically used all of her strength in her attack. She wanted nothing more than to smear the dye onto Sally's hair.

Sally struggled wildly, shrieking, "Ahh! Let go of me!"

Suzanne gnashed her teeth together as she grabbed fistfuls of Sally's hair with all her might. Just like that, she forcibly pushed Sally out of her apartment.

Right after she slammed the door in Sally's face, she made sure to lock it immediately.

Sally's barrage of insults and swears followed suit. "You fucking bitch! No one has ever dared to pull me by my hair! Just you wait, Suzanne! I'll make you regret your decision! Go to hell, you fucking cunt!"

Eventually, Sally started turning the air blue with curses that could put a sailor to shame. Her current behavior was eons away from her typical cute and innocent persona.

Suzanne ignored Sally's crazed behavior. She walked over to the bed moodily, her eyes still glued to the mess in her room.

Should she really skip out on Vera's birthday banquet? Would her background and identity bring shame to Nathan and Vera, just like what Sally had said?

Even if Suzanne was undeserving of becoming Nathan's wife, why couldn't Sally just talk it out with her? Why must Sally resort to such extreme methods just to ruin the things Suzanne treasured?

As Suzanne sank into her thoughts, two teardrops slowly rolled down her pale cheeks silently.

She took deep breaths as she tilted her head upward and closed her eyes. Her palm found its way to her eyes and clamped over them, as well as the tears.

It was her way of forcing herself not to cry. Her thin shoulders quivered slightly under the pressure.

The agony and sorrow seizing Suzanne's heart were so strong that she was about to break down.