Love On Ice: Don’t Leave Me, My Charming Liar

Chapter 146: The shock in the room was palpable. Margaret's explosive tirade left the staff frozen, unable to believe what they were hearing. Finally, a few brave employees moved to pull Margaret off Callie. Margaret struggled violently, kicking and thrashing, still screaming. "So much for being some high-society heiress!" Margaret spat. "Mr. Brooks doesn't even like you! And you think these people will stick by you after today? You've let them all down!" Margaret addressed the crowd, her voice rising. "She's a cunning schemer.

Anyone who trusts her will end up like me-jobless, humiliated, and cast aside!" At last, security guards burst into the office, restraining Margaret. One of them turned to Callie, his face grim. "Apologies, ma'am. We got here as fast as we could." Callie sat up shakily, her face smeared with ink and humiliation. She grabbed a tissue, her hands trembling as she wiped herself off. "Take her to the police station," she snarled, her voice low and venomous. "Now." The office was in chaos. Callie stood amid the mess, her hair a wild tangle, ink smeared across her flushed face.

Her white blouse was streaked with blotches of black, giving her the disheveled air of a vagrant on the streets. Margaret was gone-dragged out by security minutes earlier-leaving the creative design department frozen in a tense, collective silence. No one dared to speak, though a few colleagues cast secret glances at Callie as she dabbed her face with a crumpled wet wipe. Her eyes burned, fierce and unyielding, her clenched fists trembling as she fought to keep the fury inside from spilling over. Margaret. That woman was finished. Lɑtєst chαptєrs n glovєѕ.сm Who did Margaret think she was?

To lay hands on her? To humiliate her in front of everyone? Callie's manicured nails bit into her palms, the sharp sting drawing thin lines of blood. She didn't flinch. If anything, the pain only seemed to ground her rage. Her expression darkened, a thunderstorm ready to strike. She tossed the stained wet wipe into the trash with a sharp flick of her wrist. When she finally spoke, her voice was low, clipped, and deadly. "If I hear even a whisper about what happened today," she said, her gaze sweeping over the room, "you won't just be out of this company.

You'll be out of this city." The threat hung in the air like smoke. Callie didn't need the title of the CEO's wife to wield power-being the Higgins family heiress was more than enough. Heads dropped in unison. Mumbled promises of silence filled the room as Callie's cold eyes took them all in. Satisfied, she stormed back to her desk, slamming the door shut behind her. In the solitude of her office, she turned to the mirror. The ink stains clung stubbornly to her skin, and the red slap marks on her cheeks were still raw. She looked absurd, a caricature of herself. Damn it. . . .