Rachel felt every bone in her body scream as her knees and elbows collided with the sleek marble floor. The pain was so intense it made her tremble all over.
Upon hearing Quintessa's voice, she shuddered, as if caught in the same curse as Miranda's outburst that night at home. Quintessa, that wretched woman, was like a curse cast over her, one she couldn't shake off no matter how hard she tried.
Despite their relentless efforts to bring her down, here she was, thriving, better off than any of them.
Rachel was all too familiar with Miranda’s misfortunes. She knew Miranda couldn't enter the Lott family anymore. The word around town was that Miranda had started sleeping with boys since junior high, had abortions in college, and had gone through nineteen boyfriends—a promiscuous woman indeed.
Trapped in her own world, Miranda seldom ventured outside. She spent her days holed up in her room. Abandoned by Sean, and with Lilian in detention, she was losing her mind, talking to herself, acting out in fits.
But Rachel was determined not to end up like Miranda. Quintessa might be her curse too, but she wouldn't be as foolish as Miranda. She’d find a way to rid herself of Quintessa, to ensure she couldn't be a threat anymore.
With a scoff, Rachel attempted to rise, but Quintessa stomped on her back, pinning her down. The pain elicited a muffled groan from Rachel. Gritting her teeth, she reached out to grab Quintessa’s ankle in a desperate attempt to topple her.
Unfortunately, Quintessa was firmly planted, not only resisting Rachel's tug but also stomping on her wrist, nearly breaking it.
Shaking with pain, Rachel struggled a few times before tremblingly saying, “Quintessa, the things you’ve done with Yolanda, don’t think I’m oblivious. Do you really believe you’re that clever? That you’ve left no trace?”
Quintessa laughed, “Trace? Oh, please. That's hilarious. What have I done? Rachel, don't scare me. I’m quite timid, you know! If you find any trace, call the police to arrest me. After all, I am guilt-free.”
Of course, she felt guilt-free. What she was doing now paled in comparison to what they had done to her mother back then.
Rachel seethed, “Wretch, I won't let you revel for long. If you think you’ve made my life miserable, wait till I return the favor.”
Quintessa, still stepping on Rachel’s foot, squatted down, looking at Rachel’s grimacing face and smiled, “Oh, Rachel, if I could keep Miranda from marrying into the Lott family; rest assured, I can do the same to you with the Yorks. No, no, no, not just the York family, but all the elite families. Rachel, I remember everything from our childhood!”
Rachel’s expressions changed drastically on the spot, fearful unease flashing in her eyes. Yet, she quickly regained her composure, “Want to accuse me of having a dozen boyfriends like Miranda, of having abortions after sleeping around? Quintessa, please come up with something new.”
Quintessa chuckled, pulling out a sharp eyebrow razor from her purse.
“Rachel, darling, you're not a virgin anymore, long gone are those days. Yet you still pretend to be a goddess all the time. Aren't you tired? Besides, at your age, even goddesses become leftovers. With your looks, what can you compete with me for? Wrinkles, perhaps?”
The sight of the sharp razor sent shivers down Rachel’s spine, “What are you planning to do?”
Quintessa blew on the blade, “Simple. If I find you repulsive, why keep you around? To disgust myself? It’s not like I’m out of my mind.”
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