Two years ago…
Elizabeth
Natasha called Bianca and me early this morning, practically bubbling with excitement, telling us that her wedding dress had finally arrived from Paris. And God… when we saw it, I couldn't believe my eyes. It was the very definition of luxury. I couldn't fathom that her fiancé had spent over two million USD on a single gown.
Of course, the ensemble didn't stop there—it came with a pair of crystal stilettos, a matching purse, and jewelry. Every piece screamed extravagance. But the dress itself… the dress was the showstopper. Natasha's name was elegantly embroidered along the sweeping train, and I couldn't find words to describe the elegance and sheer opulence of it. I just stood there, mouth agape, completely mesmerized.
Meanwhile, Bianca couldn't resist teasing me about the hickeys decorating my neck and nape.
"Really, Elizabeth? Last night?" she whispered, eyes twinkling mischievously.
I groaned inwardly. Yes, last night had been… intense. Passionate. Electric. But I didn't need my best friend poking around to spill all my private business.
Natasha, of course, was entirely captivated by her gown, twirling and gasping at every detail. Bianca, on the other hand, had her attention split—half on the gown, half on the unmistakable marks Sebastian had left on me.
"Ugh. Sebastian's signature," she muttered with a grin.
I rolled my eyes but didn't protest. So far, I'd kept my private life just that—private. And Bianca usually did the same with hers… most of the time.
Natasha's wedding was only two days away, and preparations were already in full swing. The event planners had descended upon her fiancé Leonard's place, and since we were there too, Bianca and I joined in, offering our ideas and helping pick the best details for the big day.
Tomorrow was her bridal shower—a night guaranteed to paint the town red, dancing until the early hours at our favorite bar. Then Sunday would arrive: the wedding in holy matrimony. She mentioned her parents and family would be flying in from Los Angeles tonight, and I couldn't wait to see them.
By noon, the marathon of event planning finally ended. Between endless debates, suggestions, and decisions, we were mentally drained. But Natasha, ever the energetic bride-to-be, volunteered to take us out for a little refreshment retreat at our favorite downtown café. Since I had brought my car, we rode in it.
Bianca, who couldn't go a minute without makeup, kept touching up her sheer press powder and glossy lips, the kind of lip gloss that could make any man stare. She claimed the passenger seat, Natasha lounged at the back, and I drove.
We were all in mini dresses that barely grazed our knees, flaunting our cleavage to the world. Welcome to the club, Lizzy. Those days of turtlenecks, palazzos, and headscarves were long gone. Life had changed me, and there was no going back.
Bianca was fixated on her tiny designer mirror, meticulously applying her pepper-red lipstick, smudges and all, when the radio suddenly played a familiar track: Escapism by Raye and 070 Shake.
I'm not usually one for "fancy" songs, but this was different—it was a favorite back home. My cousins adored it, though they could never master the lyrics. I was the only one who could really sing it properly.
Surprised, I glanced at Natasha and Bianca. We exchanged knowing looks, a silent understanding passing between us, before all three of us burst into the lyrics, singing with unrestrained joy as the car hummed through the city streets.
We sang through the last lines of the song with unrestrained joy, as if tomorrow would never come. For once, they forgot I wasn't usually one for "worthy" songs. Our voices filled the car, loud and free, turning the vehicle into a mini disco hall on wheels.
"I can't believe I'll be Mrs. Wegmans in just two days," Natasha sighed, her happiness practically glowing. "It feels like a dream."
Bianca stretched her neck back theatrically. "Girl, you're the newest bride-to-be in town. Congratulations, every single day. Ten years together is worth it. And if Leo hadn't proposed—or worse, practically dumped you—I'd have assassinated him myself."
"My parents are flying in tonight," Natasha reminded us again. "They can't miss the bridal shower for anything in the world."
I peeked at her through the rearview mirror. "Where will you be spending your honeymoon?"
"Leo said Seoul, South Korea," she replied, absorbed in her phone. "And honestly, I'm not complaining. I want Korea babies."
If there's anyone obsessed with Asia's love culture, it's Natasha. Once she locks onto something, nothing else can distract her.
I couldn't help but marvel. She'd even written her dream future in her diary—marrying an Asian guy—and now it had come true. Leo was half Hong Kong and half Seoul, and their story began by pure chance. His parents had relocated for a remote job in Los Angeles while Natasha, only fourteen and in junior year, attended the same elite high school on a scholarship. He was seventeen, finishing senior year. That serendipitous encounter had sparked a love that now led to this glamorous wedding.
"I love that pattern on your wedding dress. If fate really lets Seb and me be together, I'd go for something like that," I murmured, caught up in my wildest dreams.
"The part I love most is the tail," Bianca said, now painting her toenails with perfect precision. "Seeing your name embroidered so boldly down there… it's just stunning."
"Like I said, it's from Paris," Natasha said, her eyes still glued to her phone. I had no idea what she was scrolling or watching. "Remember the guy who made Hailey Bieber's wedding dress?"
"That French designer?" I asked.
"Precisely."
"Damn, that guy is a legend," Bianca added, switching her nail polish from bright red to deep burgundy. I couldn't help but wonder if she carried a full manicure kit wherever she went. "From my point of view, I think he'd make mine exactly like yours—just swap the name, of course."
Natasha and I exchanged a glance before asking, "Has Antoni proposed yet?"
She shot us an embarrassed, almost guilty look. "No… I'm just hallucinating."
Aww. She was letting herself hope too much.
Natasha and I laughed, and Bianca joined in, though hers came out a bit awkwardly.
"Hey, I think your wedding shoes were stolen from Cinderella's closet," Bianca teased, hoping to ease the tension.
I knew how badly she wanted to spend her life with Antoni, but the real question was whether he was ready to take the next step. That uncertainty gnawed at Bianca every day. She worried that if the relationship stayed purely about sex and gifts, she might be the one to call it off. Two years and still waiting—it had to be frustrating.
"No, maybe I borrowed them from Sleeping Beauty while she was still napping," Natasha quipped, and we all laughed again.
"It's really beautiful," I finally said. "Too many gemstones and crystals everywhere."
"Leo wanted to get me diamond ones, but I told him no—geez, the guy is trying. He's done way too much already, you know. Between the wedding preparations, the honeymoon, and the bridal shower, he's spent a fortune," Natasha said, and I silently nodded in agreement.
"For a wedding in Paris—that's luxury on another level," I added.
"How many musicians?" Bianca asked, her curiosity piqued. When it comes to wealth, luxury, and extravagance, nothing escapes her notice.
"Fifteen," Natasha replied, and our jaws almost hit the dashboard. "Five for the bridal shower tomorrow night, and ten for the wedding day."
"Mother of Jesus… that's a lot." I gripped the steering wheel a little tighter as I maneuvered through traffic.
"Come on, that's not even enough," Natasha added casually. Is she holding music auditions or something?
Money madness—one of Sebastian's obsessions I'm still trying to cure.
"Namely?" Bianca asked, side-eyeing Natasha.
Natasha started counting on her fingers. "BTS, Cardi B, Doja Cat, Selena Gomez, Sia, The Weeknd, Ed Sheeran, Celine Dion, Shawn Mendes, and Young Thug for Sunday. Tomorrow, Saturday, it'll be Raye, Central Cee, Dua Lipa, DaBaby, and Roddy Ricch."
Bianca's eyes lit up. "When I have my wedding—God willing—I'll pick Camila Cabello, Ozuna, and Daddy Yankee." Well, what do you expect from a Spanish woman?
"You guys won't even consider gospel singers like Hillsong Worship or Newsboys?" I chimed in.
Both of them shot me irritated looks. "Yuck, girl. Stop being a spoilsport. You've already lost your virginity, remember?"
"Thank you for reminding her she's deflowered, Bianca," Natasha rolled her eyes. "It's a wedding, not a crusade where everyone gets to shout 'Hallelujah!'"
"This bridge is so lonely. Don't you think we should take another route?" Bianca carefully wiped the extra lipstick smudged at the corner of her mouth as I drifted into a serene lane.
"It's quicker to the café—" I started, until a Red Nissan GT-R suddenly sped past us. "What the—Sigma?"
If I hadn't swerved to the side, the car would have smashed into mine.
Bianca rolled down her tinted window and stuck her head out. "Hey! Asshole! Were you blind? Can't you see where you're going, or do you have short eyesight?"
Natasha lashed out too, cursing and swearing, and before I knew it, the red GT-R had stopped in front of us, completely blocking the road.
Oh no… trouble just knocked on our doors.
"Yeah! Stop the damn car and get out, you idiot!" Bianca wouldn't shut up.
I pressed the pedal, hoping for an escape, until Natasha poked my shoulder and said, "Girl, slow down. I think we're in serious trouble."
She could sense it too?
"Shut up, Tasha. You scare too easily." Bianca's mouth was like a faucet, and at this rate, she'd get us in deep trouble.
Then the next thing we saw made our hearts drop. The car doors opened, and three women in their twenties stepped out, moving with absolute confidence.
From the look of them… I'd say assassins. Yet somehow, I recognized the one in the middle. Her face, her presence, felt familiar—but my mind was too consumed with fear to remember where.
All three were brown-skinned women with brightly colored wigs and designer outfits. The one I thought I recognized wore skinny blue jeans, white peep-toe heels, a white crop sleeve top, green contacts, and a red wavy wig.
I gulped, a thick lump lodged in my throat, while Natasha and Bianca did the same. Fear sank into me with every passing second, gnawing at my insides. I wasn't sure if I might develop high blood pressure from this alone.
Then it happened. The woman in the middle pointed a shotgun directly at me. I knew, in that instant, my death note had come calling.
My first thought was Sebastian—but I didn't have the courage to call him now. My arms and body felt weak, my grip trembling on the steering wheel as if my very life depended on it.
Especially when the middle woman shouted, her accent unmistakable, "Hey! Oya! All of you, jump out of the car right now before I chisel your skulls!"
Her voice… Nigerian. That's when it clicked.
Sharon. My ex-boss.
"Oh my god… we're ambushed…" Natasha's frightened voice came from the back seat.
"At… gunpoint…" Bianca's knees clutched to her chest, her face pale with terror.
My heart sank further when I heard Natasha sniffle, "Lizzy, I told you we should've taken the other route. Jesus… my wedding is in two days. Is this how I'll die? I'm the only girl child in a family of four boys. Oh, my beloved Leo… I'll miss him so much…"
"Stop talking shit, Tasha! You're scaring me more!" Bianca snapped, her bloodshot eyes wide with fear.
I managed to whisper, my voice trembling, "…I think I know the one in the middle. That's Sebastian's younger sister… Sharon."
Bianca and Natasha leaned closer, straining to see. "You mean… your ex-boss?"
I nodded, my heart hammering in my mouth. "Yes…"
"Did you ever steal anything from her in the past?" Natasha asked, her voice small and trembling. I knew the fear had her on the verge of panic.
"No," I replied, my throat tight.
"Then… what is she doing with a gun, and coming at us like some assassin?" Bianca shivered, her hands clutching the seat.
"They're at fault for speeding past us like that," Natasha said, trying to reason through the terror. "They almost caused an accident."
Bianca's hands flew to her iPhone as she frantically typed, "I'm gonna text Antoni right now—shit! Fuck me!" She dropped the phone and looked at us, eyes welling up. "No signal."
Oh no. We're doomed.
Suddenly, my window shattered, and all three of us screamed in horror.
"AAAAAaaaaahHHHHHHHH!!!"
"I said, get down, bitches!" Sharon's voice was a whip. She smashed my door open and yanked me out, her knuckles tangled in my hair. "Get down, you whore!"
She tossed me to the ground. My face smashed against the dirt as I groaned in pain. Sharon glanced at her two accomplices. "Kiki? Ire? Pull those two Kpomos out of the car and make them frog-jump."
Before I could process it, the two women were dragging Bianca and Natasha from the car like rag dolls.
"Kneel!" Sharon grabbed my chin and slammed a dirty slap across my face, spinning my head painfully. When I stumbled, she delivered another blow. "I said kneel! ARE YOU DEAF!?"
"N…No…no…" I stammered, quickly dropping to the ground.
My heart pounded. Please, God, don't let her pull that trigger.
"Oya! Make Una dey do frog-jump now before thunder fire all of una!" I heard Sharon's accomplices shouting at Tasha and Bianca behind me, their voices cruel and commanding.
"I…I…w-we don't…don't understand Nigerian pidgin," Bianca stammered, her voice trembling.
The response came instantly—a sharp slap that reverberated down my spine.
"Ah!" Bianca cried out, clutching her face.
"I said jump like a frog on a squatted posture! Or did I speak in Swahili?" Sharon's accomplices were as cruel as she was, their voices sharp and merciless.
"N…No…no… I'm sorry!" Bianca obeyed, doing as she was commanded. My heart ached for them. I had no clue why Sharon had ambushed us, or what she wanted. The questions screamed in my mind, but fear kept them silent. One wrong move, and she held the power to silence me forever.
"Oya! Start now. You dey whine?!" (Are you stupid?)
Tears streamed down my face as I watched my friends leap like frogs, their hands clamped over their ears in terror.
Then Sharon's gaze snapped to me. "What are these?" she demanded, pointing at the marks on my neck. "Hickeys? Huh? From my brother, right? You're…fucking my brother? You—" Another slap landed squarely on my face. Stars exploded behind my eyes.
"Look at these shameless, cheap foreign whores!" She leveled her gun at us, our hearts hammering in our throats. "Ashawo kobo kobo!" (Cheap prostitutes!) She jabbed the barrel at me, and I shrank into myself as her friends laughed cruelly.
"Ha! Elizabeth." Sharon shook her head, feigning pity I knew was fake. Everything about her was a lie.
"Girls named Elizabeth are never innocent," the one holding Natasha mocked, her voice dripping with scorn.
"Of course! Don't you know? They're the best pretenders in the world," the other one overseeing Bianca added, her laugh cruel and sharp.
Sharon circled me slowly, her gaze sharp and predatory. Then she pressed the gun under my jaw, tilting my head back. "Tsk! Elizabeth. Ha! I knew something was off about you from the very beginning."
The tears I had been holding back finally spilled over. "…Please, don't hurt my friends and me…please."
A devilish laugh escaped her lips as she mocked me, "Please, don't hurt my friends and me…please—shut up!" Another harsh slap slammed against my cheek. "I never knew Brazilian women were this cheap and shameless. First, you pretended to be a man spreading the gospel of Jesus Christ, then you played your way into becoming my chauffeur. And from there…you're my brother's pianist. Next, you're his girlfriend. How?"
"N…No… it's not how you think it is…" I stammered, but a slap silenced me instantly.
"A whore!" Her eyes burned with fury. "That's what you are. Pretending to be religious, claiming you have spiritual eyes to see revelation—fake! Unbeknownst to everyone, you're nothing but a little slut who keeps my brother's bed warm." She dragged the gun along my neck. "These are fresh hickeys, I see. From last night, I presume? Cozy, right?"
I squeezed my eyes shut, letting the tears fall freely.
"Let me tell you something," she hissed through gritted teeth. "My brother doesn't love you. He never will. He's a player. You're just his little mistress—a girl he wants to fuck day and night. And when he's done, he'll dump you like a used condom. Just like all his hook-ups and bimbos." Her voice twisted with mock sympathy. "But I can't blame you much. Girls like you—chasing wealth and fine bodies—don't worry about consequences. All you want is sex and cash to feed your broke, wretched family. Tsk! I almost feel sorry for you." She laughed wickedly.
The next slap, landing on Natasha, made her scream. Sharon snapped her head back to me. "Ashawo! Do this frog-jump properly! Are you dating my brother?"
"I…I'm doing it…my knees hurt…" Tasha sobbed.
Watching my friends suffer because of me, a lump formed in my throat. I knew now—they were enduring this nightmare only because of my choices.
"Spare my friends… do whatever you want with me," I whispered, my voice trembling.
"Shut up!" Another vicious slap from Sharon froze me in place. "I want Sebastian to feel what it's like when someone tries to ruin his life. I've waited to see if he'd fall in love, so I could pay him back." She pulled a sharp pair of scissors from her back pocket, pointing them at my hair. "And now… you're going to pay for the damages."
"No! Please! Don't! I'm begging you!" I turned my head frantically, trying to escape her grasp. But one harsh slap reminded me that my face was already beaten and exposed. Sharon yanked my hair and began cutting. The slicing sound of the scissors against my long locks made me scream, louder than I ever had. "No!! Stop!! Please!! Stop!! Oh God, why is this happening to me? Why!?"
She jerked my head upward after reducing my hair to shoulder length. I collapsed to the ground, tears streaming, as I stared at my precious hair in her hands.
My hair had always been my pride. It was a rare treasure in my family—full-length, reaching my toes, and unique among my relatives.
Now… it was gone.
No…
She should have killed me instead. I've always had long hair. I'm not used to this. The pain is unbearable. I felt hollow, like a part of my identity had been stolen. I wanted to scream, to cry, to disappear.
"Ha!" Sharon held my cropped hair up for her friends to see. "This is enough for an eighteen-inch Brazilian wig, right, guys?"
"Sure. Dye it red," one of them suggested, laughter lacing her words.
"No, honey blonde is better," one of her friends added, her voice dripping with malice.
I cried bitterly. I couldn't believe they were deliberating over my hair as if it were nothing more than an accessory.
Sharon seemed to draw joy from our pain. "I bet this hair used to be my brother's pride," she sneered. "Let's see if he'll ever recognize you again. Be grateful I didn't bald you completely."
"Is that the car he got for her?" one of her demonic companions pointed at my purple Chevrolet Corvette E-Ray.
Rage surged through me. "Don't even think about it," I warned Sharon, expecting a slap—but instead, she just laughed, sharp and cruel.
I was ready to fight anyone who dared touch my car. That car was a gift from Sebastian, my love, my pride.
"That imbecile! He never buys me a thing, but got one for his whore!" Sharon barked, fixing the gun on the car. Before I could react, the loud crack! of gunfire shattered the air.
I dropped my hands from my ears just in time to see my Corvette obliterated in an instant. "Nooooo!!!"
I sprang forward, fury blazing, but Natasha and Bianca held me back.
"Lizzy, don't. She's a psychopath. She'll kill you!" Bianca whispered fiercely, her eyes wide with fear.
Sharon's gaze snapped to me, narrowed and lethal. "You want to fight me?" she hissed, gun trained on my chest. "Take one step closer, and your friends will watch how you die."
Helpless, I sank to my knees, pressing my hands to my mouth as uncontrollable sobs wracked my body. Tears streamed violently, my chest heaving under the weight of fear and fury.
I heard one of Sharon's accomplices hiss, "Let's go, Sharon. These girls are just a bunch of losers."
I couldn't move. Couldn't fight. I remained kneeling, my face buried in my hands, wailing and sobbing as their car sped away like a phantom in the night.
Natasha and Bianca immediately crouched beside me, their own breaths shaky but comforting.
"Hey… it's okay," Bianca murmured, patting my back gently. "They'll pay dearly for this. I swear, they won't get away."
"God, my knees… they hurt so badly," Natasha groaned, pushing herself up and rubbing her legs. "Ouch. I won't even be able to dance properly at my wedding now." She pouted, a small attempt to lighten the tension.
I wanted to console her, to show some concern, but the pain and humiliation weighing me down left me numb.
Then, barely five minutes after Sharon and her crew had disappeared, the sound of roaring engines shattered the silence. Four sleek, black SUVs tore down the street, tires screeching, and came to a sudden halt.
The front SUV's door flung open, and Antoni dashed out from the passenger side while Seb leapt from the driver's side.
The remaining vehicles parked behind them, and a swarm of bodyguards poured out, clad in black from head to toe. The sight was a warning: today was going to be someone's reckoning.
"My God! What happened here?" Antoni shouted, rushing toward us.
I buried my head instinctively as Sebastian moved with calculated precision, his black two-piece sweater and hoodie making him look both calm and deadly.
"Seb? Antoni? Thank God you guys came! There's no signal here!" Bianca exclaimed, clinging to Antoni's arm. She glanced at me, relief washing over her, but I couldn't lift my eyes.
"Elizabeth?" Seb squatted beside me, his hands reaching for my face, but I quickly turned away.
"Hey," he urged softly, "look at me. Tell me who did this."
I refused. My eyes stayed hidden, my face buried in shame. I knew the war that would follow if I revealed the truth—knew exactly what Sebastian was capable of. Sharon would pay, and I couldn't bear to make anyone suffer on my account, even her.
"I ASKED A QUESTION, AND I DEMAND AN ANSWER, NOW!" His voice flared, sending a shiver down my spine, yet I still held my silence.
When he gently forced my face toward him, insisting on eye contact, my conscience screamed: Sebastian could read the answers in my eyes.
"Look at me when I'm talking," he commanded, wrath rolling off his tone. "Serena, don't snub me. Who did this to you? Tell me before I lose it."
I could feel the fire beneath his calm exterior, knew he had already lost control.
"I… it's robbers," I lied, letting the tears I'd been holding back finally spill. My body shook with the release, and my cheeks burned in embarrassment.
Sebastian's face fell immediately. I sensed the small crack in his composure could ignite him entirely.
His gaze shifted to Bianca. "Is it true?"
I tried to communicate with Bianca through subtle eye signals, urging her not to reveal the truth—but it failed.
"Bianca, is it true that you guys were attacked by robbers?" Sebastian demanded, his rage simmering.
Bianca's lips trembled. "N… no," she stammered, fear making her falter. She quickly handed her phone to Antoni, showing him the evidence.
"It's your sister," she said, voice barely above a whisper.
Jesus. She just dropped the bomb.
Sebastian froze for a moment, his voice barely a whisper: "What?" His eyes snapped back to me, and in that gaze—I saw everything.
War. Anger. Rage. Blood. Death.
My heart thudded against my chest. I couldn't begin to decipher what he was about to do, but one thing was certain: someone wouldn't live to see tomorrow.
I had never seen him like this before. Angry, yes—but this… this was extraordinary.
His jaw clenched as he trailed a thumb across my bruised cheek. When I winced, the thumb transformed into a fist.
"Sharon dared lay a finger on you, huh?" His voice was low, deep, a blade slicing straight through me.
I stayed silent, too terrified to respond. Every fiber of me trembled, trying to predict what would come next.
"Seb?" Antoni's voice cut through the tension, forcing Sebastian's gaze away from me. "You need to see this." He handed over Bianca's phone.
It was then I realized Bianca had been recording the entire nightmare.
Sebastian pressed the phone to his ear, and my glare snapped toward Bianca. "How could you? Why record it? Are you trying to destroy his family?"
Bianca shot back, unflinching, "Well, she deserves to be taught a lesson."
"I'm the victim here! Am I complaining? Did I ask for this? Did I ask you to help me seek justice?" I hissed, fury and fear mingling.
My attention was completely seized by Sebastian's growling tone. "So, Sharon dares cross my territory?" he roared, his voice low and furious. "She wants to test me… see what I'm capable of, huh?"
I shook my head frantically. "No, Sebastian. She would never test you. It's a prank—it's not real. The bruises… it's just makeup." I knew I was a terrible liar, and my voice cracked under the weight of fear.
"And—what the fuck!?" His hand gripped my shoulder-length hair, eyes blazing. "Did she… did she c—"
"I… I had a haircut!" I blurted, twisting the truth, but sobs broke through anyway.
His eyes narrowed instantly, piercing right through my lie. He didn't need to hear more—the evidence was already screaming from the recording.
"Can you please stop lying and tell him she cut your hair? And destroyed your car too?" Natasha urged.
Sebastian shot to his feet, sprinting toward the wrecked Corvette, Antoni at his heels.
Their jaws dropped as they took in the destruction.
"Oh… my… lord…" Antoni gasped, voice barely audible.
I knew the storm that was about to be unleashed. I stood, trembling, and reached out to Sebastian, taking his hand in mine. My voice was a trembling whisper, but every word carried my desperate plea.
"My love… please. Don't take justice into your own hands. Let this slide. Remember… she's family. I'm the stranger here. Don't fight her because of me. She's your sister."
He didn't respond. His gaze stayed locked on the mangled car, every muscle in his body coiled like a predator.
"I don't know why you're always so softhearted," Bianca muttered, her words sharp and unyielding. "Let him do what's right."
"Yeah," Natasha groaned, rubbing her knees. "Look at my knees—they're killing me. She made us frog-jump for thirty minutes! How am I supposed to dance properly at my wedding?"
"She even called us whores—"
"Shut up, both of you!" I snapped, exasperated. "You're making this worse than it already is."
Sebastian's gaze shifted to his men by the convoys. "Bruce, take Elizabeth and her friends back to the apartment. I don't want anyone seeing me in action."
"No!" I cried, clutching his hoodie like a lifeline. "Seb, I know what you're planning, but for my sake, please… don't do it." I turned to Antoni, pleading, "Tell him not to. He'll listen to you."
Sebastian wiggled out of my grip. "Bruce, don't just stand there. Take her away, now."
I warned Bruce as he stepped closer, "Don't you dare come near me." But he ignored me, grabbing me from Sebastian's arms like a leech ripped off the skin. I thrashed violently, kicking and flailing as Sebastian strode toward the SUV.
"Sebastian! I'm begging you, for the love of God… she's your sister!"
"Call Danny. Get this cleaned up," Antoni ordered Bruce, before turning to follow Sebastian.
I sobbed, my voice trembling, "Antoni… please… she's family." Just the thought of Sharon's lifeless body on the morning news sent chills down my spine.
"She should have thought of that before causing havoc!" Antoni spat, his words sharp as he climbed into the SUV.
I clasped my hands together, hot tears streaming down my cheeks. "Please… tell Seb to retreat," I begged.
Antoni hesitated at the SUV door, his voice heavy with frustration. "In cases like this… he's a monster. I can't stop him. The man you just saw? That's not the Sebastian you used to know. That man… he's a beast. Sharon deserves a taste of her own medicine. Yes, she's my family too, but for what she just did… she needs to be put in her place."
With that, he slid into the SUV, and Sebastian's car shot off like a lightning strike. The remaining convoys followed in a blur, engines roaring across the bridge.
Hopeless. Helpless. There was nothing I could do.
I lifted my gaze to the heavens, my voice raw and desperate. "LORD!!!"