Destined to Meet Again

Seeing the cluster of hickeys on Yolanda's shoulder and the blatant defiance gleaming in her eyes, Minerva's chest tightened.

Her voice turned sharp and cold. "Get out!"

Yolanda just smirked, picked up a dress, and strutted past her.

As they brushed past each other, Yolanda deliberately bumped into her, and a condom landed against Minerva's chest.

"We didn't use all of them. I thought I'd leave you one," she said.

The box landed right where Minerva had the tattoo removed. Pain shot through Minerva's shoulder, and she staggered, losing her balance and collapsing to the floor.

She tried to catch herself, but her hand scraped against something sharp. She hissed in pain and looked down to see her palm bleeding—blood soaking into a shattered emerald bracelet.

When Minerva saw the emerald bracelet—once locked in her safe—now shattered across the floor, her mind went completely blank.

She couldn't believe what she was seeing. She stared at the jagged edges, a cold dread tightening in her chest until it was hard to breathe.

Snatching the fragments off the floor, she sprang to her feet and stormed out.

At the top of the stairs, she grabbed Yolanda by the arm, her voice sharp and trembling with fury. "How did you open the safe? Why did you touch my bracelet?"

Yolanda twirled a strand of hair around her finger, looking utterly unbothered. "I asked Frederick. He told me the code. I wasn't planning to take anything. It just fell over by accident. It's not my fault the thing broke."

Seeing her twist the truth so shamelessly, Minerva trembled with rage.

Fury surged through her, and without thinking, Minerva raised her hand and slapped Yolanda hard across the face.

The sharp crack echoed through the house. Yolanda's cheek swelled red almost instantly.

Eyes burning, Yolanda started to raise her hand to strike back, but then she caught a glimpse of the open study door.

In one quick, deliberate move, she grabbed Minerva's wrist and yanked her violently toward the staircase.

The two women tumbled down together.

Frederick walked out of his study just in time to see them crash at the foot of the stairs.

His heart skipped as he saw the scene unfold. Instinctively, he took a step toward Minerva.

But just as he crouched down, he seemed to hesitate. Then, he turned and scooped Yolanda into his arms instead, his voice thick with concern.

"What happened? I was only in a meeting for half an hour. How did you get hurt?"

Yolanda lifted her head, revealing a swollen, flushed face. She sobbed uncontrollably, her voice shaking with emotion, then immediately launched into a tearful accusation.

"I was just getting a dress like you asked. But when Ms. Sowle came back and saw me, she turned furious. She slapped me across the face and pushed me down the stairs."

Frederick's face darkened as he turned to Minerva, his tone sharp with accusation. "It's just a dress. Was that really necessary, Minerva?"

Minerva sat slumped at the bottom of the steps, bruises blooming across her arms and legs. The back of her head throbbed where it had struck the marble floor, blood seeping from a gash behind her ear.

She opened her clenched fist, showing him the shattered emerald bracelet, and her voice cracked from pain. "That was my room. She had no right to go in without asking. And that bracelet—she broke it on purpose!"

Frederick's gaze flickered as he caught sight of her mangled, bleeding palm. But when he finally spoke, his words were all in defense of Yolanda.

"This is my house. Yolanda can go wherever she wants. You're just an outsider. You can't even take care of your own stuff, and now you're blaming my girlfriend for it? Don't be ridiculous."

With that, he scooped up a nearly fainting Yolanda and walked away.

Minerva was left alone, sprawled on the cold marble floor.

Blood streamed steadily from the gash behind Minerva's ear, soaking the back of her shirt in deep crimson. But she didn't seem to feel the physical pain at all.

She just stared blankly at the shattered emerald bracelet—her mother's only keepsake—clutched in her torn palm, eyes vacant and hollow.

Those cruel words from earlier echoed relentlessly in her ears, each syllable tightening her chest.

Tears streamed silently down her cheeks, unstoppable and bitter.

She remembered the year her parents died, how she had nearly collapsed under the weight of grief. It was Frederick who had held her through those nights, gently rocking her as he whispered words of comfort.

"Minerva, it's okay. Don't cry, alright? The Davisons are your family now. My mom and dad are your parents, too. I'll always stay with you and always protect you."

But now, he had someone else he cared about more. Those promises didn't mean anything anymore.

Minerva was just an outsider.

That was all she was now.

But soon, she wouldn't be.