I was so TIRED of people trying me. My father. Meech. Larry. And now this obsessed, delusional woman who couldn’t accept that the man she wanted had chosen someone else.
No more. I was done being the victim. Done swallowing my rage to keep the peace.
Strong arms wrapped around my waist from behind.
“We’re leaving.” Prime’s voice was low in my ear. “Now.”
He started steering me toward the exit, but we didn’t get far.
Vivica materialized out of nowhere, blocking our path. She was immaculate as always—expensive gown, perfect hair, that cold smile that never reached her eyes.
“Well.” Her voice dripped with condescension. “You certainly know how to pick them, Prentice.” She looked at me like I was something stuck to the bottom of her designer shoe. “But I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised. You’ve always been a disappointment.”
Something snapped inside me.
Twelve years of rage. At my father. At every man who’d ever tried to break me. At this woman who’d treated her own son like garbage his entire life.
My hand connected with her face before I even registered moving.
The slap echoed through the ballroom like a gunshot.
Vivica stumbled back, her hand flying to her cheek, shock and fury warring on her face. The crowd went absolutely silent. Somewhere, a glass shattered.
And then Prime was lifting me off my feet, throwing me over his shoulder and carrying me toward the exit like I weighed nothing.
“PUT ME DOWN?—”
“Nah.”
He didn’t stop until we were outside, the cold air hitting my face like a wake-up call. The valet scrambled to get the car, probably terrified of whatever the hell had just happened inside.
Prime set me down but kept his hands on my shoulders, looking into my eyes.
“You done?”
I was shaking. Adrenaline and anger and the sudden realization of what I’d just done all hitting me at once.
“I’m sorry.” The words came out broken. “I’m so sorry, I just—she said—and then your mother—I couldn’t?—”
“Get in the car.”
The ride home was silent for the first few minutes.
I sat in the passenger seat, staring at my hands like they belonged to someone else. I’d just slapped two women at a high-profile gala. In front of politicians and business leaders and God knows who else with their phones out recording everything.
My reputation.Sweet Zin’s reputation. Everything I’d been building…
“I ruined everything.” My voice cracked. “All those people saw. They were recording. By tomorrow it’s gonna be all over the internet?—”
“Probably.”
“And the roach—people are gonna think my rolls are dirty. That I have an infestation. Nobody’s gonna want to hire me now. I baked every single one of those in the new kitchen, Prime. There were no roaches. I would never?—”
“I know.”
“Farah did it. She had to have. She’s been trying to get at me since the last gala and now she?—”
“I know.” Prime’s voice was calm. Steady. “I’ll handle Farah.”
