BaAaMm!
I slamd the door open, the sound echoing like thunder in the bathroom as I stepped out, my gaze locking onto the four won huddled by the mirror.
Their laughter died in their throats as they turned to face , stunned into silence.
I squared my shoulders, chin high, and walked right up to them, each step deliberate.
"Got sothing to say to my face?" I said, voice cold and bead sarcastically. "Go on, don't be shy. Continue your conversation."
This ti, I wasn't backing down.
Sophie's face went pale, her usual confidence faltering as she stamred. "E-Eve . . . how long have you been there?"
I flashed her a sweet smile, but my voice was ice-cold. "Long enough to hear you spinning lies about , claiming I made a spectacle of myself to dance with Cole last week."
Her face drained of all color. She knew what really happened that day. And she knew I knew.
Guinevere stepped forward, her lips curling into a sneer. "Lies?" She scoffed, crossing her arms. "Plu-ease, Eve. We know you well enough to believe every word Sophie said."
I casually placed a hand on my waist, eting her glare with one of my own. "Oh, really? Were you there? Did you see what actually happened, or are you just running your mouth without checking so facts?"
I could see the shock ripple through them—the looks on Guinevere's and the other girls' faces. They weren't expecting this. They were used to the old , the one who'd let their venomous words slide, believing they weren't worth my attention.
But not today.
I had ignored their bullying for too long, thinking they were beneath , unworthy of my ti. But now, I realized—ignoring them only gave them power.
No more. I wasn't just going to let them drag my na through the mud any longer. I would defend myself, sothing I'd failed to do in the past.
Guinevere let out a scoff, crossing her arms. "And what, you have proof to deny Sophie's claims?"
"Oh, I do," I said with a smirk, locking eyes with her.
Sophie's face twisted in panic, her eyes wide like they might pop from her head. "E-Eve, y-you . . . what are you talking—"
"That's
Lady
Eve
to you, servant," I corrected her coldly. "Don't forget your place. You're my maid, so act like it." You're still my maid right now, so I would take advantage of it.
One of the girls from behind Guinevere glared at , her voice dripping with disdain. "You really are a bitch. Treating Sophie like this . . . so inhuman."
I laughed, slow and deliberate. "Oh, really? So you'd let your maid gossip about you behind your back, lie about you, and tear down your reputation?"
The girl's mouth snapped shut, silenced by the weight of my words. "I didn't realize you had the habit of treating your servants like equals—sharing your als and your bed with them after you heard them talk shit behind your back." My voice dripped with sarcasm, the sting unmistakable.
I knew the truth. They treated their servants far worse. They were even being physical with them.
I wasn't deaning the role of a maid, but I was speaking the truth. Most wealthy families didn't treat their servants as anything more than servants—certainly not as friends or acquaintance. I was actually nice, but not that
nice
to let this slide anymore.
"Do the two of you need reminding?" I stepped forward, and the girls behind Guinevere shrank back. "I am still the Lady of the Rosette family."
My voice sharpened like a blade, cutting through the tension in the air.
Guinevere struggled to maintain her pride, but I saw it—the subtle crack in her façade. The other girls pressed their lips together, stunned into silence, while Sophie stood frozen, still too shocked to react.
I offered them a sickly sweet smile. "So, next ti you feel like gossiping about my life, you can just ask directly, and I'll tell you. No need to talk shit behind my back, mm-k?"
Guinevere lifted her chin defiantly. "Don't be so arrogant. So what if you're a Rosette? I'm from the Bernard family line."
I raised an eyebrow, feigning surprise. "Oh, right. The
Bernard
family line. How silly of to forget. And remind —how much influence do you actually have, being from a
branch
family? Do you even have any shares in the Bernard Company?"
It was common knowledge that the branch families held little power compared to the main line. Their only options were to eliminate the main family, start their own successful ventures, or marry into wealth. And it was this hunger for power that led to be here—because the Rosette branch family would do anything to take control.
Guinevere's face flushed crimson, her Achilles' heel exposed. She
hated
when anyone reminded her of her branch status.
"Bitch! What did you say?!" she spat, her temper flaring as she swung her hand toward .
I caught her wrist effortlessly, stopping the slap inches from my face. She didn't know I was well-versed in martial arts and self-defense, trained alongside Cole since young. I'd spent years perfecting my skills, wanting to impress him—though I never quite asured up to his level and in his eyes.
With a swift motion, I threw her hand aside and slapped her across the face.
Guinevere's eyes widened in disbelief. "Y-you slapped !"
"You would've slapped first," I said calmly before turning to the other girls, delivering swift, asured slaps to each of them.
Tears welled in their eyes. "What are you doing? We never laid a hand on you!" one of them cried.
"Consider it repaynt for all the trash you've spoken behind my back. Be grateful I'm not collecting on the four years you've ruined my reputation with your lies. Since we're graduating soon, let this be our last conversation. And don't even
think
about talking behind my back again, or you'll get more than just a slap."
I didn't want to deal with these girls anymore. After all, I would disappear soon. I just wanted to defend myself and nothing more. I felt satisfied, and this was long overdue.
I turned to leave but stopped in the doorway, spinning around with a smile. "Oh, and one more thing—don't bother telling anyone about this." I didn't want to get trouble with the teachers and principal after all.
I pulled out my phone, playing the recording of their gossip. The color drained from their faces.
"Or else . . .
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