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Chapter 13 - The Provocation

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The atmosphere in the grand ballroom had shifted dramatically while Dominic was in the study.

Bethany, furious and humiliated by Dominic’s public dismissal, had consumed three glasses of champagne in rapid succession. She paced near the grand staircase, her face flushed with angry, entitled rage. She needed a target to vent her frustration on. She needed someone powerless.

She spotted Charlene.

Charlene was leaning heavily against a marble pillar near the serving doors, taking a desperate moment to breathe. The pain in her lower back was becoming sharp and rhythmic, a terrifying sensation she was trying desperately to ignore.

Bethany marched across the marble floor, her red Louboutins clicking sharply like gunshots over the music.

“What do you think you are doing?” Bethany hissed, stopping directly in front of the pregnant maid.

Charlene opened her eyes, startled. “Miss Garcia. I was just taking a brief moment—”

“You are paid to serve, not to lean against the architecture like a bloated, lazy cow,” Bethany snapped loudly, drawing the attention of several wealthy guests nearby.

“I apologize,” Charlene said, forcing her head down, gripping the empty silver tray tightly. “I will return to the kitchen.”

She attempted to step around the Senator’s daughter.

Bethany wasn't going to let her escape. The humiliation she felt from Dominic demanded a sacrifice.

Bethany sidestepped, blocking Charlene’s path again.

“You aren't going anywhere,” Bethany sneered, her voice rising shrilly. “I am sick of looking at you. I am sick of your pathetic, pregnant face ruining this house. My father is announcing my engagement to Dominic tonight. I am going to be the lady of this estate, and my very first order of business is throwing you and your bastard child out into the freezing street.”

The guests around them fell silent, watching the grotesque display of cruelty. No one intervened. They were the elite; they did not concern themselves with the suffering of the help.

Charlene felt a sharp, agonizing cramp rip through her abdomen. She gasped, doubling over slightly, the silver tray slipping from her hands and clattering loudly onto the marble floor.

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“Look at you,” Bethany laughed cruelly, stepping closer. “A pathetic, helpless beggar.”

Bethany raised her hand, intending to shove the pregnant woman hard against the pillar.

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