As I spoke, a sharp pain radiated from my abdomen, reminding me of everything I had endured. I hadn’t been sure about terminating the pregnancy at first—after all, I had longed for a child for years. But then, on my way to the hospital, out of nowhere, a car hit me. Blood poured from me, and by the time I reached the hospital, it was too late. I had no choice but to undergo the abortion. I lost the baby.
Cassandra’s cruelty wouldn’t go unpunished!
As we argued, the pink Maserati outside was already beyond recognition, smashed to pieces. My friend’s team, motivated by the fact they were dealing with a mistress, was more enthusiastic than ever. Some of them stormed into the beauty salon. Soon, the digital sign outside had been altered to read:
"Owner Cassandra: Proud Mistress, Dedicated to Helping Legitimate Wives Expand Their Families!"
The salon staff had never seen anything like it. Screams filled the air as more and more people gathered outside, snapping photos and whispering to each other.
Cassandra’s face was red with rage. Desperate, she whipped out her phone to call Sanz. This time, he answered.
"Baby, I’m being bullied! Come to the salon and help me!" she whined. After a brief exchange, the call ended.
Cassandra glared at me with disdain, her voice laced with arrogance.
"You old hag, you had the guts to bring people here and cause trouble? Just wait and see what happens!"
I crossed my arms and gave her an indifferent look.
"Let’s see who’ll be the one waiting."
