Alice’s knuckles were white on the steering wheel as she pulled up to the apartnt building. Her pulse hadn’t cald since that photo. Paula’s battered face kept flashing in her mind, red and swollen, that streak of blood at her mouth. A lump clawed up Alice’s throat. Anger, fear, guilt, all choking her at once.
She braked too hard at the entrance, the tires squealing. A man in a suit passing by gave her a glare but Alice barely registered him. She shoved the car door open and stord across the paved walkway, sneakers pounding against polished stone.
The building was everything she expected of Priscilla. Gleaming glass walls, gold fixtures, floral arrangents that were too perfect, too staged. Alice shoved through the entrance doors, ignoring the faint music wafting from hidden speakers. Her mind was set on one thing: Paula.
Inside, she brushed past a doorman, then another man she vaguely recognized. Priscilla’s secretary. He blinked at her arrival, startled, then tried to intercept her.
"Miss—" he began.
Alice didn’t stop. "Where is she?"
"Calm down—"
She swung him a look so sharp it could cut glass. He faltered, stepping back instinctively. For a mont, she thought he might block her again, but sothing in her eyes made him think twice. That sa secretary had been on the receiving end of Hades’s violence once. Maybe he wasn’t ready for a repeat.
"Follow ." He said as he led her ahead.
Her fists clenched as they reached the main suite. The secretary stepped aside.
The door was ajar, like Priscilla wanted her to co. Her throat tightened, but she pushed it open.
"Paula!" Alice’s voice cracked as she called out, raw urgency bursting through the silence of the polished apartnt.
She barely got the na out before a blur of motion struck her across the face.
SLAP!
The force of it whipped Alice’s head to the side. A sharp sting burned across her cheek. For a second, she was stunned, the taste of copper seeping into her mouth.
When she turned back, Priscilla was standing there. Flawless hair, flawless dress, lips curled in fury, eyes burning.
"Who the hell do you think you are, you ungrateful brat?" Priscilla spat.
Alice lifted a trembling hand to her face, fingertips grazing the heat blooming on her cheek. Her breath hitched, and for a split second, pain threatened to choke her. But then, her eyes hardened.
"I warned you." Her voice was low, steady, lethal.
Before Priscilla could speak, Alice’s palm lashed out.
SMACK.
The sound cracked through the air like thunder. Priscilla gasped, staggering slightly. Alice didn’t stop. Another slap, sharper, harder— SMACK.
"You think you can put your hands on ?" Alice hissed.
The secretary suddenly rushed in and appeared at her side, panic in his eyes. "Miss, what are —" he lunged forward, hands outstretched to stop her.
Big mistake.
Alice turned on him in one swift motion, her hand snapping across his face with a vicious slap that echoed. His glasses flew sideways. Before he could even recover, Alice drove her sneakered foot straight into his gut. The air whooshed out of him as he crumpled, clutching his stomach and wheezing.
For a beat, silence reigned. Alice’s chest rose and fell, adrenaline coursing through every vein, her palm still tingling from the force of her slaps.
The secretary, on the floor, looked up at her with wide eyes, haunted, even. As if he was truly reconsidering every life choice that had led him here. First Hades had brutalized him when he intercepted Priscilla by the road side. Now Alice. If fate had any rcy, he would quit this job before he beca a permanent punching bag for all of them.
Priscilla’s hand was on her cheek, her eyes round with disbelief. No one dared slap her. Not in her ho. Not in her perfect, controlled world.
"You..." she breathed, voice trembling in outrage. "You dare—"
"Yes, I dare!" Alice roared, stepping forward, her entire body trembling with fury. "You have the guts to ss with ? Are you insane? Do you not know who I am?"
Priscilla’s lip curled. "AND WHO EXACTLY ARE YOU? SO PATHETIC GIRL WHO THINKS MARRYING INTO POWER MAKES HER EQUAL TO ?"
Alice’s eyes flashed. "No. A northerner. And if you had even a shred of sense, you’d know northerners don’t waste ti with your fake manners. You hit , I hit back."
Priscilla’s nostrils flared. "HOW DARE YOU STRIKE ? DO YOU WANT TO DIE?"
Alice took a step closer, their faces inches apart, her voice a blade. "Didn’t you call here because I struck your son? Well, since you’ve got no manners and neither does he, I thought I’d do you both a favor and discipline you. What’s so wrong with that?"
Priscilla recoiled, stunned at the audacity. She opened her mouth but Alice didn’t give her a chance.
"You think you can drag Paula into this? Beat her, threaten , send your little texts? You think you can play god because you’ve got money and connections?" Alice’s voice cracked, rage and grief twined together. "You’re not untouchable. Not to ."
Priscilla’s fury boiled over. "You insolent—" she seethed. "You’ve gone behind , digging into Nicholas like a rat. You dare strike in my own ho? You’ll regret this. You’ll never see your friends again. Do you hear ? Never. And money? You’ll get nothing. If you think you’re smart, I’ll teach you a lesson you’ll never forget."
Her words ca fast, vicious, unraveling in a storm of superiority and rage. Her hands trembled, her face red, her voice rising higher and higher until it was less language and more venom.
But Alice didn’t back down. She stood her ground, fists trembling, chest heaving. And then—
The scream tore out of her like glass shattering. Ear-piercing, raw, primal. It reverberated off the walls, echoing through the room.
Priscilla froze mid-word, stepping back away from her. Her secretary flinched, covering his ears.
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