Chapter 7

Dessie turned to face him, her expression unreadable. "You' re a manager, Craig. You' re supposed to be smart. Think about it. Why would I use a 'rare herb' that could be traced, in a house where I' m the only other resident? It' s illogical."

She took a step closer. "And did you ever see a doctor' s report? Or did you just take her word for it that she was ever in any danger?"

She glanced at Chanel, who was now looking visibly nervous. "That herb is a controlled substance. Very rare. I' m sure if we called the police, they could trace the source very easily."

Chanel' s face went pale. She quickly stood up and grabbed Craig' s arm. "Craig, let' s not fight. It was probably just a misunderstanding. Dessie is a good person. I' m sure she wouldn' t do something like that."

Her attempt to smooth things over was transparent. She was terrified of an official investigation.

But Craig was too blinded by his own narrative to see it. "This isn' t about logic, Dessie! It' s about you being a vindictive, jealous woman!"

"Is that so?" Dessie' s voice was cold as ice. "Then let' s call the police. Let them sort it out. I have nothing to hide."

She pulled out her phone.

"No!" Chanel yelped, a little too quickly.

Both Dessie and Craig turned to look at her.

Chanel forced a shaky smile. "It' s... it' s a private matter. We shouldn' t involve the police. It would be bad for the company' s image. For your career, Craig."

Dessie let out a short, humorless laugh. She put her phone away. There was no point. She was leaving this circus tomorrow.

She walked away without another word, locking herself in the bedroom.

The next morning, as she approached the company gates, a crowd was waiting. They were holding signs with her name on them, crossed out in red.

"Homewrecker!"

"Get out of our town!"

They started throwing things. Rotten vegetables, eggs. One of them threw a small rock that struck her on the forehead, opening a cut. Blood trickled down her face.

She staggered back, trying to shield herself. Through the shouting mob, she saw Chanel, standing off to the side, a look of grim satisfaction on her face. This was her doing.

Suddenly, a car screeched to a halt. Elek Preston jumped out.

"What is the meaning of this?" he roared, his voice cutting through the noise. "Security!"

He pushed through the crowd and stood in front of Dessie, shielding her. "Dessie, are you alright?"

"I' m fine," she said, her voice shaking despite herself.

Just then, Craig and Chanel arrived. Craig saw Dessie' s bleeding forehead, and for a fleeting moment, a flash of pain crossed his face. It was gone as quickly as it came.

The crowd, emboldened by his presence, started shouting again. "Mr. Snyder, you have to do something about this woman! She attacked your wife!"

Craig' s face was a mess of conflicting emotions. He knew this was wrong, but his instinct for self-preservation was stronger. He looked at the angry crowd, at Elek, at his bleeding ex-wife. He made his choice.

He turned to Dessie, his voice cold and public. "Dessie. Apologize to Chanel. Now. End this."

Elek looked at Craig in disbelief. "Are you serious, Snyder? She' s the one who' s hurt!"

Dessie put a hand on Elek' s arm, stopping him. She looked directly at Craig, her eyes burning with a fire he had never seen before.

"No," she said, her voice ringing with clarity and defiance. "I will not."