A Price for Humiliation

On our tenth anniversary, Evan Rodger and I decided to tattoo each other's names on our chests.

After the tattoo session, I woke up with my head still feeling groggy.

To my dismay, I found the words "Old Crone" tattooed in a bold font across my chest.

Upon noticing the way my expression dropped, Isabel Hawthorn, who was the tattooist, snickered, "You’ve been dating Evan for a decade, but he still hasn’t registered your marriage together. What does that make you if not an old crone?"

I smashed the mirror on the spot, which spewed broken shards in her direction.

Evan practically threw himself in her direction and pulled her into his arms to protect her.

He snapped at me with a ferocious scowl, "She’s just a young, naive girl who was trying to make a joke. Why are you picking on her?"

I stared intently at the parted collar of his shirt.

What was supposed to be my name tattooed on his chest had been replaced with "Isabel Hawthorn, My Only Love".

Isabel wrapped her arms around Evan. She expertly played the victim and appealed dearly to him, "Evan said he liked my name last time, so I was only trying to make a joke. You wouldn’t be upset at me, would you, Claire?"

Evan Rodger gently patted Claire Fisher’s back while casting me an accusatory glare.

"A grown woman like you shouldn’t be bickering with a young lady."

Before I could get a word out, several of Evan's friends shoved the door open and barged in.

"Evan sure has a good thing going with his wife."

"They’ve been together for a decade and even got matching tattoos! He is still as devoted to her as ever."

"Speaking of which, what does the matching tattoo say anyway?"

That was when they glanced in my direction and noticed the words imprinted on my chest.

Their laughter stopped in an instant as the room was plunged into an ominous silence. The only sound was Isabel Hawthorn’s chuckle.

Evan instinctively went up to shield Isabel. "Isabel, apologize to her."

Isabel pouted before apologizing reluctantly. "I’m sorry, alright?"

She rolled her eyes before muttering under her breath, "What a busybody old hag. Can’t even take a joke."

Evan patted her shoulder reassuringly before turning to me. "There, she apologized, so don’t hold it against her. She’s only twenty years old after all, still at the naive age where she doesn’t think before she speaks."

Then, he suddenly chuckled before stating with a tone of condescension, "Besides, you are an old spinster."

I felt my breath lodge in my throat. My knuckles turned white from clenching my fists too tightly. "Apology not accepted."

Then, I slowly pulled my collar up to reveal the insulting letters branded onto my skin. They still hurt after being freshly tattooed, but it was nothing compared to the throbbing pain in my heart.

I shot daggers at Evan and spoke my mind, "Since you’re not going to resolve this properly, I’ll do it myself."

As I was leaving, I heard someone talking behind me.

"Claire is the only heir to Fisher Corporation. She’s not going to scorch the earth just to get revenge, would she?"

Evan assured his friend in a confident tone, "I know her well enough to be sure that she wouldn’t do it. She loves me and wouldn’t have the heart to hurt me."

After I got into my car, I dialed my assistant's number.

"Take Isabel Hawthorn to one of the warehouses in the Western District tonight. Set up the skin grafting equipment."

I swore on my honor as a Hawthorn that I was going to get my revenge.