With slow, asured, and deliberate steps, Jessica closed the door behind her gently as she stepped into the brightly lit hallway. Her eyes scanned both ends of the corridor. As expected—no sign of Tricia. A faint knowing smile tugged at the corners of her lips.
Her expression remained indifferent as she adjusted the hem of her dress with casual elegance and headed toward one direction—the restroom.
Turning toward the restroom, she spotted Tricia rushing into one of the ladies’ rooms, her face painted in feigned distress. Jessica’s smile deepened. She didn’t need confirmation.
The scene that had just unfolded inside wasn’t surprising—Tricia’s lodramatic exit, her feigned tears, the carefully tid gasp that had drawn sympathetic glances is just a ans of painting her the villain.
This she had expected from her following her attitude towards her since she arrived with Davis.
Years of experience dealing with schers had taught her this ga well and if Tricia is setting up this evening for a match, then she doesn’t mind accompanying her.
She had seen enough scheming won in her life to know that the act was far from over. It never was. Won like Tracia never left without striking twice.
She reached the restroom, her phone in hand, and pushed the slightly ajar door to open wider. Her expression was serene, indifferent. But her entrance was intentional.
Inside, the steady sound of water running echoed off the marble tiles. As Jessica stepped in, Tricia’s hand paused mid-motion over the running tap.
Her eyes t Jessica’s reflection through the mirror. The mont stretched between them. A deep scowl twisted Tracia’s face, embarrassnt and fury flooding her cheeks with color.
She spun around sharply, hands clenched into trembling fists. "What are you doing here?" she snapped her voice sharp and acidic.
Jessica stepped in fully, letting the door remain wide open as she leaned her fra on the wall beside the door.
She raised her brow slightly, a smirk playing across her lips. "Why? I should be asking you that. You seed a little too dramatic back there. I was worried. Or were you hoping I wouldn’t follow the trail of your crocodile tears?" Her voice dripped with mock concern. "Are you alright?"
Tricia turned off the tap and took a step closer to Jessica, the distance between them shrinking as tension swirled like a storm between two empresses in a battlefield of pride. Her voice dropped, filled with venom.
Her expression was icy, a stark contrast to her earlier sweetness during the toast. She didn’t believe that in her territory she would be intimidated.
"Jessica," she sneered, voice laced with venom. "Aren’t you ashad of yourself? Throwing yourself at a man like that? Do you even deserve him?"
Jessica tilted her head. Jessica blinked slowly, her smirk deepening as she regarded Tricia with the amusent one reserved for a delusional child.
She folded her arms, calm, collected. "But just to clarify... which man are we talking about? Because I’m fairly certain the man who introduced earlier used the term wife. Were you not present when he said it? Or is comprehension not your strong suit?"
Tricia’s nostrils flared, her jaw tightening. Her fists clenched harder, nails digging into her palm. "Don’t act smart, Jessica. Calling him your husband?" "Ridiculous" she scoffed.
"Ridiculous?" Jessica questioned with her head, one brow arching in disbelief. Did she not understand English? Or reality? Jessica sighed, a flicker of pity in her gaze.
Tricia’s fists clenched. Seeing her smugness she wanted to strike her—desperately—but dared not risk Davis’s disapproval. "You don’t deserve him," she spat.
Jessica raised her brow in curiosity, she had to find out how undeserving she is to Davis. "Are you serious? Did he complain to you?" She asked coldly.
"Stop pretending, you know exactly what I an. You flirted with Luke shalessly earlier. Do you think Davis won’t notice? Or are you hoping he’ll tolerate your disgusting behavior like a fool? How long do you think this ga of yours will last?"
Jessica let out a soft sigh, almost as though she pitied her.
"Tricia," she said quietly, her voice suddenly carrying a dangerous edge. "You keep calling it a ga—but who’s really playing here? You, who stord off just to create a scene? Or , standing exactly where I belong?"
Tricia stepped even closer, her voice rising in pitch. "Don’t think I don’t see what you’re doing. You fooled Alex, you chard Lucas, but Luke? He’s not blind. He’ll see right through you. It is just a matter of ti."
Jessica’s smile widened, slow and taunting. "Let him. I don’t care." Her tone was final. Sharp.
"But Tricia, I’d suggest you think twice before dragging my na through the mud again," Jessica said, her voice laced with warning. "You don’t know what I’m capable of. Don’t tempt ."
She turned, with a sharp pivot, and stepped into the hallway. She didn’t want to concern herself with this lady’s madness.
She had only followed her out because she was sure she had sothing to say to her, and now it seed to have been exhausted, and she wouldn’t spend another minute because Davis might co looking for her any minute.
That’s when Tricia lunged.
"Jessica, wait!" she cried, grabbing her wrist tightly. "Please—I didn’t an to offend you. I’m sorry... please forgive ."
Her fingers dug in with deliberate pressure, sharp nails cutting into Jessica’s skin painfully.
Jessica’s expression darkened. Her instincts scread a warning. Her eyes dropped to Tricia’s grip, the nails biting deeper into her skin. She is quite sure it will definitely leave so marks for a few days.
Tricia’s eyes shimred with unshed tears, her lips trembling. It was a convincing act—if Jessica hadn’t already seen the malice beneath.
Jessica’s lips thinned. You really want to play this ga. Very well.
She leaned in slowly, her breath cold against Tricia’s ear. Her voice dropped to a chilling whisper. "Don’t bla for being ruthless."
Before Tricia could react, Jessica spun sharply and pushed. Tricia stumbled backward, her heel slipping. Her head hit the edge of the door with a sharp thud before she crumpled to the floor.
She gasped in shock, pain flaring across her skull. But that wasn’t the end of it.
She stepped forward, coldly pressing her foot onto Tricia’s fingers. The pain spread through every part of her body, her body twitching. The crunch beneath her heel was followed by a scream that echoed down the hallway.
When she finally stepped back, Tricia’s fingers were swollen and red, the fingers trembling non-stop, it’s edges dyed red. Jessica didn’t flinch.
Only after the damage was done did Jessica leaned down, her expression morphing instantly into one of concern.
She gently took Tricia’s injured hand in hers, inspecting the trembling fingers with mock sympathy.
"Oh no... did I step on your fingers?" Jessica cooed softly, mockingly, as she crouched beside her. "You shouldn’t have grabbed so suddenly, you know. You could’ve really hurt soone."
Tricia’s screams continuously echoed through the hallway—raw and ragged.
Davis who had wheeled himself out of the room into the hallway to search for Jessica, witnessed the scene of her being pulled by Tricia from afar with bits of her mock pleading, his expression thunderous.
He increased his speed to et up with the won, his breathe coming in gasps as he arrived. "What is going on here?" he thundered.
Jessica stood quickly, feigning a limp. "Hubby!" she said, voice laced with a soft whimper. "I twisted my ankle and nearly fell. Tricia helped steady but... I accidentally stepped on her fingers. I feel terrible. It looked bad—do you think her fingers are... broken?" She pouted, as though she had been wronged.
Tricia didn’t believe her eyes and stared at her in shock. This Jessica had truly refreshed her mory.
Behind Davis, Alex entered, eyes widening at the scene. He looked from Tricia’s crumpled form to Jessica clinging to Davis’s arm.
"Davis," Tricia cried hoarsely, pushing herself upright, tears streaking her cheeks. "Your wife attacked ! She crushed my hand deliberately!"
Davis’s face darkened as he stared at her coldly. "Are you sure?"
Tricia froze at the question. That wasn’t the reaction she expected.
"I... she..." she stamred.
"I saw you grab her," Davis said flatly. "Don’t think I didn’t notice. I may not have arrived in ti—but I saw enough."
"Alex," Tricia turned desperately, her voice rising in hysteria. "You can’t believe her. Right? You saw what she’s like!"
But Alex only sighed, his gaze filled with quiet resignation. "Tricia..."
Jessica limped toward Davis and gently grabbed his sleeve, her voice soft. "I didn’t an to... it was an accident."
Tricia’s mouth opened to protest but closed again as she caught Davis’s expression—stern, unreadable. He wasn’t looking at her with sympathy. He didn’t believe her.
No... no!
Tricia turned to Alex, desperation in her eyes. "You believe , right?"
Alex looked from Tricia’s tear-streaked face to Jessica’s composed one. He sighed deeply. "Tricia... just stop."
Tricia’s mouth fell open. Her eyes widened. No. No, this couldn’t be happening.
She’d lost. And worse—Jessica hadn’t even needed to break a sweat.
Jessica turned to face her one last ti, her smile polished and regal. "I never had anything against you, Tricia. But you drew first blood."
With that, she allowed Davis to lead her out, limping just slightly—enough to sell the story. Behind her, Tricia remained on the floor, her fingers swelling, her eyes burning with rage and humiliation.
And Jessica? She didn’t look back. And she didn’t bother to.
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