?Chapter 283:


    Her words wereced with superiority, and she eyed me with a provocation that made my hands clench into fists. A sex ve? The audacity of Jessica to throw that in my face was almostughable.


    The only reason I was here today was because of her! I couldn’t fathom where she found the nerve to act so high and mighty.


    But as she reveled in her imagined triumph, I couldn’t help but notice the unhealed scars marring her face. The irony of her unting superiority while bearing those marks was too much to ignore.


    I let out a bitterugh, a sarcastic smile ying on my lips. “Jessica, you might want to hide those scars before boasting. Are you afraid others won’t realize that your husband is the one who gave you those?”


    “Ha! Makenna, who would’ve thought Frank could be so brutal to his own wife? It’s been days, and those wounds haven’t healed. Clearly, their rtionship is far from perfect!”


    Alice, standing by my side, joined in, her voice dripping with mockery.


    “You!” Jessica’s face turned ashen, her features contorted with anger, yet she had no retort to offer.


    I was far too tired to waste energy on a meaningless argument with her. With a nce at Alice, the two of us sneered at Jessica onest time before turning our backs and walking away.


    Jessica was left seething, stamping her feet in frustration, but she dared not follow, intimidated by the curious stares of those around us.


    As we made our way to our rooms, Alice grumbled, “Jessica is so infuriating. It’s hard to believe she’s your sister with how awful she is.”


    I smiled weakly, half-joking as I replied, “Maybe she isn’t really my sister at all.”


    Alice sighed, letting the conversation drop.


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    Finally, we reached our rooms. After a quick wash, I copsed onto the soft bed.


    The day’s weariness clung to me like a heavy shroud, and I was soon lost to sleep.


    But the respite was short-lived. A sudden knock on the door shattered my slumber, pulling me back into the waking world.


    Makenna’s POV:


    The knock on the door jolted me awake, and I rubbed my eyes, irritation bubbling up inside me.


    It was the middle of the night. Who on earth would be knocking at this hour to disturb my sleep?


    Still groggy, I sat up and raised my voice, tinged with impatience. “Who is it?”


    But strangely, there was no response from outside. The knocking persisted, relentless and stubborn.


    Was it Bryan?


    The thought crossed my mind, but I quickly dismissed it. From what I knew of Bryan, if he wanted to see me, he wouldn’t bother with formalities like knocking. He’d juste right in.


    That realization made my unease spike. Whoever was outside might not have good intentions. A wave of anxiety surged through me as I grabbed the kettle from the bedside table, holding it as an improvised weapon, and cautiously approached the door.


    With a quick turn of the handle, I swung the “weapon” with all my might the moment the door cracked open.


    A muffled thud was followed by a stifled cry of pain. I was poised to strike again when a familiar, slightly panicked voice halted me. “It’s me! It’s me! Stop!”


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