Secret Defiance

She held up the phone, waving the lock screen in front of me and sneering. "Challenging me with this attempt, huh? Did you think I'd believe it's Grady?"

"Give the phone back," I demanded, reaching out to reclaim my phone.

The women gathered around her to openly mock the display image.

"It's edited. There's no way Mr. Winters would allow her to do such a thing. It's hilarious!"

"She must be delusional. Even in a dream, that's a stretch!"

Although Melissa had a faint smile, there was something sinister in her gaze. "Grady and I grew up together. We have so many photos, which is why your fake one's disgusting me."

She threw my phone to the ground, causing cracks to spiderweb across the screen. In one quick motion, I reached out to protect it, knowing I'd be safe as long as I could call someone.

Melissa's heel came into view as it pressed my hand down over the phone—all because I could unlock the screen. Tears swam in the corners of my eyes, but I refused to let go.

As they rained bruises on the back of my hand, I became numb from the pain. Seeing my stubborn grip, one of the women behind Melissa kicked my shoulder, sending me reeling, and all I could do was shield my stomach as I felt.

They stomped on my phone until the screen went black, and then kicked it down the gap between the stairs. Melissa stared at me, not quite done. Her lips curved into a cruel smile, as she asked with mock innocence. "Oh, so you like fake photos. Do you need my help? I bet you have a figure to die for since you love photos. Mind if we have a peek?"

She covered her mouth with a laugh, but her actions were blatantly malicious. I’d chosen a loose dress today to keep the baby comfortable, but it made things much easier for her now. She lifted her phone to record as she called another woman over, who began tugging at the hem and straps of my dress. I couldn’t escape the hands roaming over me.

With no way to call for help, the humiliation was unbearable, and the urge to fight back overwhelmed me. Summoning my strength, I slapped her phone from Melissa's hand. Without hesitation, I sank my jaws into the arm she’d used to grab my clothes.

She shrieked in pain, violently flinging me away. A streak of bright red was left on her arm. Her anger was past the point of being concealed, and she promptly ordered the stairwell door closed.

'She's a fucking maniac.'

Without much thought, I forced myself to my feet and rushed toward the door. It had been locked just after it closed. Even if I pounded on it desperately, I found myself pleading, 'Please save me. Is there anyone?'

There was no response because it was their lunch break.

Melissa yanked me back by my hair, slamming me down onto the ground again. I knelt, gasping in pain. In the scuffle, my collar had loosened. She stared at my neck for a long moment, reached out, seized my pendant, and yanked it off—all while squeezing my throat with her other hand.

My head throbbed as I coughed, raw and stinging. Barely able to catch my breath, she took my dazed state as a fresh excuse, bringing her hand across my face in a brutal slap. I couldn’t dodge in time, causing me to curl up on the floor.

"Well, look at that! Who would’ve thought Grady had such a thief here?" She sneered.

"No, that's my ring! Return it to me!" Even though there was blood on my lips, I lunged for the ring. It was a simple band that Grady had made for me on our first date, after which it was set with a few tiny diamonds. Since it was our first time making anything, we went with matching yet minimalist designs.

I cherished it. Worried it might get worn out in daily life, I kept it safe as a necklace, tucked close to my heart, where our love stayed safe.

"Oh, still want to lie your way out? There are plenty of people here who saw that ring on Mr. Winters' hand." She sneered.

"That's our wedding ring! I am Grady's wife."

Battered

Feeling in despair, I repeated the truth—over and over again.

"You're lying. Everyone knows that the ring he usually wears isn't this one," Melissa sneered, her gaze dripping with mock sympathy. "Honestly, it's like you've barely even met him to lie like this."

Grady cherished this ring, only wearing it on special occasions. Most of the time, he wore the simple ring I gave him when we first got together. Yet, I could see the picture now—Melissa would only believe what she wanted to believe, and explaining was just a waste of time.

"Just give it back, please? I'll give you whatever you want… or perhaps, we can trade? I'll give you something in exchange." I tugged at her sleeve, my voice filled with desperation.

She laughed suddenly, her eyes glinting with cruel amusement. "Are you really obsessed with this? You behave as if you'd steal his clothes to have a whiff of his bodily scent. Are you that thirsty for a man?" She covered her mouth with a giggle, pretending to consider my offer.

Then, she continued, looking at me with a sickly, sweet expression, as if the perfect solution was within view. "He might blow his top if I give it back to you. Why don't I carve your face with his name using this? Wouldn't that make you happy?"

Melissa slipped the ring onto her finger, admiring how perfect it was under the light. "You'll now have his ring on you. Call it body art if you must. I studied a bit of design abroad, so be thankful."

She grinned, motioning to her friends, who pinned me down.

The cold metal of the ring pressed against my swollen cheek, and I began to shiver. My eyes met hers, her gaze brimming with deranged satisfaction. She pressed down with all her strength, and soon, warm, sticky blood trickled down my cheek.

Blood dripped onto the floor, but I didn’t dare look down. Summoning whatever strength I had left, I fought back desperately, grappling against them.

Then, suddenly, a familiar voice called out from behind the locked door. "What’s going on in there?"

It was Grady's secretary—a male staff, Whitley Mars, that he had hired to ease my mind about him being in close proximity to someone. I’d met him many times when I visited, so he would definitely recognize me.

Hearing no response from inside, Whitley banged on the door harder, his voice growing impatient. "I heard noises coming from in there earlier. Is anyone in there?"

Melissa had to pause, shooting me a vicious look. She gestured to her friends to release me. As a result, I exhaled shakily, collapsing onto the ground, my limbs drained of strength.

"Oh, Whitley, we’re just having a team meeting to discuss our new quarterly plans. Are you really going to make a fuss over that?" Her smooth response made me grit my teeth in frustration.

Whitley was now my only lifeline.

"Help!" I managed to shout, but one of the women quickly covered my mouth, smearing the blood from my cheek over my lips and nose, filling each breath with the sickly taste of iron. Only a faint, broken sound escaped.

"What kind of meeting needs to happen in a stairwell?" He was suspicious.

"Well, you all are using the meeting rooms for your lunch breaks, so we had to settle here," Melissa replied with a casual shrug.

Watching him almost buying her story, I mustered every ounce of my strength, tugging at the hand over my mouth.

Finally, I managed to scream, "Whitley Mars!"

At the sound of his name, he pulled out his keys and quickly unlocked the door. His eyes widened in shock when he saw me sprawled on the floor, battered and bloodied.