My Actress Girlfriend Helped My Rival Destroy Me

"It hurts..." I finally let out a cry, the pain overwhelming me.

Margot hesitated briefly before grabbing my injured left hand, her grip tightening.

"Oh, quit playing the victim!" she snapped, her voice laced with disdain. "Even if your left hand is broken, you’ll still have to play something for Steve."

Steven, ever the opportunist, chimed in with a faux concern, "Want me to help clean him up a bit? He’s looking pretty filthy."

Margot shot me a cold glance, her lip curling in disdain. "Don’t bother. No amount of cleaning will fix what’s already dirty on the inside." She paused, her voice dripping with venom. "Let him keep up this little charade. It’ll just show everyone what happens when you try to cross me."

Her words were a punch to the gut, a sharp reminder of her cruelty. She had said something similar the last time we almost broke up.

'Frank, if you dare walk away from me, I’ll make sure you lose everything. Don’t forget—everyone already knows your father was a cheater, and your mother killed herself out of shame. You’ve got nowhere else to go.'

Now, here she was again, dangling the same threats over my head.

Except this time, I wasn’t falling for it. This time, I felt nothing but disgust.

"Don’t touch me!" I shouted, yanking my hand free.

My balance faltered, and I stumbled backward—straight into the cake. I hit the ground hard, frosting and mango filling smeared across my face. The crowd burst into laughter, their jeers cutting through me like a blade.

My chest tightened as the allergic reaction from the mango intensified. My throat felt like it was closing, a vice gripping my airway.

Panicked, I reached out toward Margot, silently begging her to stop them. But her attention was solely on Steven, her eyes fixed on him like I didn’t even exist.

"Frank’s bloody hand might be a little... unsettling for Mr. Schumann. Should we tie it behind his back?" Steven mocked

Margot hesitated for a moment before nodding. "Ugh, fine! Bind his hand. Let him see what defying me gets him."

Steven grinned at her approval and barked out the command. The next thing I knew, my face was shoved back into the cake. Every time I tried to lift my head for air, someone would shove me back down, laughing as I gasped and choked.

It felt like demons were tightening their grip on my throat. The world around me blurred as I struggled to hold on, despair closing in on me.

Then, out of nowhere, a strong hand yanked me upright.

The laughter stopped abruptly.

I heard a soft, commanding voice above me. "That's enough!"

Through my blurred vision, I saw her—a strikingly beautiful woman with sharp eyes and an unshakable presence. She gently wiped the frosting from my face, her movements careful and precise. The overwhelming scent of frosting and mango was replaced by a soft, fresh aroma of gardenias.

"Who the hell just kicked me?" one of the men snarled, rolling up his sleeves.

But before he could make a move, two men in black suits appeared and effortlessly tossed him aside.

"Too noisy," the woman said, her voice soft but with an edge that silenced the room.

She was stunning, her appearance and presence impossible to ignore. Though her expression was serene, the sharpness in her eyes froze everyone in place.

As she draped her coat over my shoulders, her gaze fell on my injured hand. Her brows furrowed.

"Who did this to you?" she asked, her voice low and laced with concern.

I stared at her, stunned and unable to respond.

Before I could say a word, a familiar figure stepped forward. Alfred Schumann—the renowned pianist and someone everyone here revered—bowed his head slightly as he approached her.

"Miss Lexington, is something wrong?" he asked politely, his tone almost reverent.

The room fell into stunned silence.

Alfred Schumann, the world-famous pianist, was acting deferentially toward her.

Even Margot, who had spent so much time trying to network with him, looked bewildered.

She stepped forward cautiously, her voice shaky. "Who... who are you?"