“How the hell did that bitch outsmart me? This doesn’t make any sense!” She raked her fingers through her hair agitatedly. “She was clearly shocked when I told her about the fake marriage officiant last time. What the hell happened between then and now?”
Knowing Monique’s confrontational character, Constance expected her to have unleashed her fury right then and there. But the woman had gone radio silent over the issue instead. Constance’s heart burned with rage as she realized she’d been thoroughly played for a fool.
“That bitch planned this all along. She set me up!”
The more she replayed the humiliating events, the angrier Constance became. Her face flushed as her breathing grew labored.
“No, I will not let that conniving bitch have the last laugh. I refuse to let history repeat itself!” she vowed, grabbing her purse and heading downstairs with determined strides.
In the lounge, Lydia tried desperately to soothe the fussy baby while her own panic bubbled just under the surface. She looked up with trepidation as Constance stormed down.
“Mom? Are you going out?” Lydia asked hesitantly. Constance just scoffed and brushed past without a word.
“Mom? Wait, where are you going?” Lydia rose anxiously, cradling Alex. “Mom, please, you heard what the lawyer said…”
Constance whipped around, eyes blazing. “What do you want me to do? Just sit idly by while my son spends the night in jail?”
“Please don’t do anything rash,” Lydia implored. “We can’t risk making this situation any worse. This whole mess started because you keep provoking her, and as long as you keep provoking her, there will be no end to this fight.”
“I’m going to get him out of there, no matter what it takes,” Constance stated with steely resolve before pivoting on her heel and marching out.
Biting her lip, Lydia handed the squalling baby off to the nanny and snatched up her phone with a sinking feeling. As expected, the scandalous disruption at the wedding was still trending heavily, all attempts to bury the story failing.
It seemed Monique meant business this time – she wasn’t going to let this insult go unanswered.
Lydia could only imagine what other bombshells the vengeful woman had in store for them.
❦❦❦
At the hospital…
Monique stood by the vending machine when an angry voice bellowed her name.
“Monique!”
Monique turned to find Constance marching aggressively toward her like a bull after a matador. She frowned, pinching the bridge of her nose.
When Constance reached her, she raised her hand and smacked Monique hard across the face.
Caught unaware, Monique’s head whipped to the side from the force of the slap. As Constance raised her other hand to strike her again, Monique was ready this time. She slapped Constance back and shoved her away.
Constance stumbled back, nose flaring and chest heaving as her eyes burned with rage. “You slapped me? How dare you!”
“Just returning the favor,” Monique stated calmly.
“You uncultured…” Constance sputtered.
Monique remained composed, not rising to Constance’s agitated state. “If you don’t know how to behave in a civilized manner, I’ll gladly teach you. Now, what the hell do you want?”
Constance took a few deep breaths to regain her composure. “Drop the charges.”
Monique chuckled, clearly amused. “No can do.”
“Monique!”
“You’re wasting your breath. I’m not letting you and your son off the hook.”
Constance grit her teeth. “What the hell do you want then?”
Monique’s eyes turned cold as she lowered her voice. “What do you think I want, Constance? I want to make you and your son pay for the humiliation you put me through.”
“You’re being completely unreasonable. He doesn’t even love you anymore.”
“So the hell what? It’s the price he’ll pay for cheating on me.”
Constance shook her head in disdain. “You’re a cold, unfeeling woman. No man could ever love you.”
The barb struck briefly before Monique steeled herself. “Three years is a long time to spend behind bars, Constance. You should be conferring with your lawyer about your opening argument.”
Constance’s eyes narrowed to reptilian slits. “Is that your final answer?”
“You shouldn’t have bothered coming here,” Monique stated flatly, turning to leave.
❦❦❦
A shadowy figure asked Constance, “Do you want me to wait for you?”
The two stood in front of a dilapidated apartment building. Constance shook her head. “No. You go get everything ready.”
The figure melted back into the shadows as Constance looked up at the window of the room she wanted. Taking a deep breath, she stepped forward and made her way up the four floors before raising her hand to knock firmly.
Silence greeted her. “Sarah Jones, I know you’re in there. Open up!” she commanded.
After some shuffling sounds, the door cracked open, revealing a shadow of Sarah’s former self peering out warily. “Mrs. Constance.”
“I certainly hope you don’t expect me to converse with you out here,” Constance stated imperiously.
Sarah opened the door wider, stepping aside to allow Constance entry. The apartment was a sty, with piles of used food containers overflowing the sink. Sarah, once impeccably dressed, now wore peasant garbs.
“Mrs. Constance, what are you doing here? How did you find me?” Sarah asked nervously, her eyes darting around.
The last time they’d seen each other was the night Sarah, driven by anger, had impulsively pushed the five year old Sahara into the pool.
Sarah had been living in constant fear of being exposed ever since. Though Constance indicated her displeasure at Sarah’s failure to finish the job, the girl was still her grandchild. Sarah worried Constance’s lingering guilt would make her rat her out eventually.
Constance’s gaze swept the dingy apartment with clear disgust. “That doesn’t matter now. What matters is the answer to my question.”
Sarah raised her brows warily. “W-What question?”
“How far are you willing to go for your revenge against Monique?”
Sarah looked down, trying to hide the intense hatred burning in her eyes. “I…I don’t understand.”
From her purse, Constance withdrew a thick wads of cash and tossed the bundles down on the grimy table with a thump. “My token of goodwill.”
The money laid out before Sarah amounted to nearly two years of her former salary at Beaumont Corp. She swallowed hard, temptation flaring in her gaze.
“Well?” Constance pressed impatiently.
Licking her dry lips, Sarah asked, “What do you want from me?”
At the question, a sinister sneer twisted Constance’s lips.
INKED IMAGINATION
