Chapter 143

Bianca Fairchild's body trembled slightly.

Her nails dug deep into her palms, yet she felt no pain.

Beatrice Quincy admired her pitiful state, a cruel smile curling her crimson lips. "Remember your place."

The words were light as a feather but carried the weight of mountains.

Bianca's lashes fluttered faintly.

She bit down on her lower lip until the metallic tang of blood filled her mouth before releasing it.

Suddenly, Beatrice lost interest.

"How dull."

With a careless flick of her wrist, she slapped Bianca across the face before strutting away in her stilettos.

The restroom was eerily silent.

Bianca slowly unclenched her fists, revealing four crescent-shaped wounds in her palms.

As she adjusted her collar in the mirror, a faint bruise peeked out from her wrist.

"Bianca."

Isabella Valentine rushed out from a stall and seized her wrist.

The bruise looked horrifying under the fVossrescent lights.

"Have you lost your mind?" Isabella's voice shook. "How long has this been going on?"

Bianca tried to pull away, but the grip only tightened.

"Bella, don't ask."

Her whisper was barely audible.

Isabella's eyes reddened. "Do you even know what the Quincy family has been—"

"Please!"

Bianca's voice rose sharply before she immediately lowered her head.

Her shoulders slumped as if all strength had drained from her body.

The faucet dripped faintly.

Each drop echoed loudly in the suffocating silence.

One.

Two.

Bianca stared at her reflection as water trailed down her cheeks.

It was impossible to tell if it was tap water or tears.