dare you twist the truth like this!”
I cocked an eyebrow, amused by Brenda’s desperation. “Miranda, still eavesdropping? Your kid’s gutsy enough to insult me to my face. You planning to let that slide—or are you ready to pack your bags?”
The maid herself, Miranda Bart, slinked out from behind the door, her face stormy. But instead of shutting Brenda down, she grabbed my arm. “What are you trying to pull?” she hissed. “You’re ruining Miss Brenda’s party. Come with me. Now.”
Her grip left an angry red mark, but she wasn’t done. Oh no, she had a whole lecture locked and loaded.
“If it weren’t for Miss Brenda’s generosity, you’d still be on the streets! You should be grateful. Tie up that mutt! If it scares her friends, you’ll pay for it, Claire.”
The crowd didn’t miss a beat, piling on with their little comments.
“So she’s not the big deal she pretends to be. Just a dog trainer.”
“Being around rich people doesn’t make you one of them, Claire. What’s wrong with you?”
“Tie up the dog already! Ruin Brenda’s party, and you’ll regret it!”
Regret it? Sure.
I let the leash slide free and shot Brenda a look, my smirk cutting right through her smug little act. “Let’s see who’s regretting things by the end of today.”
Rambo didn’t wait for a second invitation. It leapt, slamming Brenda flat to the ground. The room erupted into chaos—screams, scrambling feet, the whole nine yards.
While everyone else lost it, I stayed focused. Miranda was wide open, and I didn’t waste the chance. I slapped her hard. Once. Twice. Thrice… By the time I was done, her face was puffing up like a balloon.
Dusting off my hands, I straightened up. “A bunch of servants, thinking they can boss around the master? Guess I’ll have to remind you who’s in charge.”
