99 Acts of Revenge for Her Beloved

After spending two weeks at the rehabilitation center, I had more or less recovered, though barely.

During that time, Patricia didn't reach out, except for one call right at the start.

The day my mom and I agreed on was drawing closer. Despite still being weak, I forced myself to go home and pack.

But the moment I opened the door, I found Patricia hosting a party with her friends. Everyone froze as soon as they saw me.

A flicker of alarm crossed Patricia's face. She instinctively stepped forward, frowning as she addressed me, "Bradley, I've been trying to reach you. Why haven't you answered?"

My gaze, however, landed on the man she was standing in front of. It was none other than her first love, Warren.

Noticing that I was glaring at him, Patricia shifted uncomfortably before explaining, "Warren came back earlier than expected. Since I just had surgery, I couldn't make a big deal out of it. So, we're just keeping it simple at home."

Then, she shot me a look. "You're not seriously going to sulk over something this trivial, are you?"

My hands curled into fists.

Patricia and I had been together for five years, and I had always been bothered by her past with Warren. Whenever she brought him up, it got under my skin. I'd end up asking her who really mattered more.

But now, I didn't care.

I nodded slightly. "Welcome back. You guys carry on. I just came to grab a few things."

Patricia frowned at my indifference.

She used to mention Warren on purpose just to see me unravel. I'd completely lose it, not even caring how I looked.

Yet, I was far too composed now.

As I turned to leave, Warren spoke up. There was a wounded edge to his voice as he said, "Bradley, I've already let go of what happened back then. Why are you still being so cold? Can't you stay and celebrate with us?"

Patricia couldn't bear to see him upset. The moment he said that, she rushed over, grabbed my arm, and dragged me to the table.

"Warren said he's not mad at you. So, quit sulking and keep him company."

No sooner had I taken a seat than her friends swarmed in.

"Brad, let's see some sincerity. Bottoms up!"

Looking at their smug smiles, I couldn't help but scoff inside. They knew I'd just had part of my liver removed, yet they still brought out the booze. Wasn't that a bit too much?

It was laughable now, but back then, I didn't suspect a thing. I genuinely thought they were happy for me.

I pushed the glass away. "My doctor said I can't drink."

"Oh, come on! Just a little won't hurt!"

With that, a few of them grabbed my arm and forced the drink down my throat.

I choked and started coughing violently. I staggered back, but someone shoved me hard. In the next second, I fell face-first into the cake.

Sticky frosting clogged my nose and mouth. I could barely breathe, yet the room exploded with shrill laughter.

When I finally pushed myself upright, my face was drenched and burning with pain. Squinting through the mess, I spotted a row of metal spikes sticking out of what should've been a fluffy cake.

Meanwhile, Warren was laughing so hard he could barely stay upright.

One of the women looked at me without a hint of guilt. "Oops! Sorry, Brad. The frosting was too soft, so I asked them to add some support. Who knew you'd face-plant into it like a starving man?"

Nearby, someone muttered, "Loser."

At that, the rest of them pounded the table and howled with laughter.

I scraped the frosting from my face, fury boiling just beneath the surface. Without another word, I turned to leave.

But even then, Warren refused to let me go. He grabbed a fistful of my hair as his eyes gleamed with sick delight.

"Bradley's getting all moody. Let's help him wash his face before he runs off crying to Patricia," he said while waving to the others.

Everyone agreed without hesitation, grinning as they lunged at me.

In an instant, terror crashed over me like a tidal wave.

When I was little, I was kidnapped. I had cried too loudly, so they held my head underwater. I almost died, and since then, I've had a deep-rooted fear of water.

No matter how hard I fought back, Warren shoved me toward the kitchen anyway.

Almost immediately, he slammed my head into the sink. Ice-cold water pounded down, and I let out a cry.

The others pinned my arms behind me, laughing like it was a joke.

"Scrub him clean! Trash like him doesn't belong here!"

I had been suffocating too long, and my consciousness was slipping.

Patricia had been watching from the sidelines. But just as I was about to black out, she yelled, "That's enough!"

Her voice cut through the chaos. The others immediately let go of me.

She stepped up beside me, then gently brushed the wet hair from my face. "I'm sorry, Bradley. You must be terrified."

But I pushed her hands away when she reached for me. My voice came out raw as I said, "I'm fine."

Ignoring the pain on her face, I turned and walked to the bedroom.