Tongue of Malice
Sarah
Amir rose to his feet as he caught sight of me approaching them. His expression betrayed surprise; evidently, he hadn’t anticipated my emergence from the room and subsequent stroll around the mansion.
“Uhm…” His throat cleared before he glanced at his fiancee. “Jess and I came here to discuss our wedding plans with Grandpa Mitchell.” Amir adjusted one of the chairs nearby. “Please, have a seat.”
“We’re here to finalize details for the upcoming wedding. It’s set for four months from now. I’d love to see you as a bridesmaid,” Amir stated.
“Babe, Sarah might not be well on our wedding day. You know? As much as I wanted her to be a part of my bridal party, she might end up causing disruptions. I hope she’s okay,” Jessica remarked, though her smile seemed somewhat forced.
“Miss, what can I get you to drink?” Amanda inquired politely.
“A cold tea, please,” I responded simply.
Amir seemed taken aback by the sound of my voice.
“I’m glad to see you’re on the mend…” He reached out to hold my hand. “I’m looking forward to what lies ahead and to your recovery. You’re still young, Sarah… There are plenty of men out there who would offer you genuine love. You’ll build a new and better future.”
I remained silent, lifting the glass of cold tea to my lips without responding.
“Yeah, Sarah. Perhaps your baby is destined to die,” Jessica’s words struck me like a cruel blow. This wench! I thought she had changed, but her venomous tongue proved otherwise.
“Jess, that’s a terrible thing to say,” Amir interjected, his voice tinged with disbelief.
“What? Did I say something wrong? We’re not even sure what her baby would look like. Besides, it’s embarrassing if people find out there’s a single mother in your family. I can’t imagine raising a child without a husband. So, I think it’s okay that her baby is dead.” Her words hung in the air like a toxic cloud, poisoning the atmosphere with their heartless disregard for the pain and suffering they inflicted.
“Jess!” Amir’s voice rebuked, laced with disbelief and disappointment, shaking the air around us. He couldn’t fathom the audacity of the woman’s words or comprehend the cruelty spilling from her lips.
My anger surged. How dare she presume to dictate what is acceptable? Did she not grasp the turmoil I was enduring, trying to piece my life back together amidst grief?
“I’m going back to my room,” I said quietly to Amir.
I could see the apology in my brother’s eyes. Yet, I couldn’t comprehend why he allowed Jessica to manipulate him so easily.
Standing up, I grabbed the pitcher of cold tea that Amanda had prepared. They assumed I was retreating to my room to drink it alone.
“Even better, let’s refocus on our wedding plans,” Jessica said with a forced sweetness to Amir.
But their shock was palpable as I meticulously emptied the pitcher over Jessica’s head, the contents washing over her in a frigid cascade, small cubes of ice dancing amidst the deluge of cold tea.
“Sarah!” Amir’s shock echoed in his exclamation at my actions.
“Ahhhh!” Jessica shivered violently from the sudden cold. “You b! tch!” As she stood, her scream pierced the air, the liquid cascading from her blonde hair.
Suppressing their laughter, the two maids beside me struggled to maintain composure while I remained stoic.
“Enjoy the rest of your day,” I uttered with a calculated calmness, then pivoted away from the unfolding chaos. Amir’s eyes widened in bewilderment, caught in the tumultuous aftermath of my action.
“Come back here, you shameless wench!” Jessica’s angry voice echoed after me as I heard Amir attempting to calm her, caught in the situation’s awkwardness.
Amir lacked the resolve to reprimand me, his soft spot for me amplified by my ongoing grief. Furthermore, I was confident he understood the motivation behind my actions towards his girlfriend.
“That wench! If she ever hurt you, I’d wage war on her! I wouldn’t care if Sir Amir fired me!” Amanda’s support echoed through my ears.
Retreating to my bedroom, I settled by the window, gazing at the serene view beyond the mansion’s walls.
Amir was right. I deserved more than this dismal reality. I vowed to construct a grander dream, where I would find a partner who not only respected me but adored me, someone who would flood my life with joy and treat me as the queen I deserve.
***
Philip
The engine’s rumble filled my ears as I deftly navigated the car around the racetrack. Amidst the engine’s roar, my eyes narrowed with frustration, weighed down by my burdens.
The memory of that fateful night pierced through my mind like a dagger. Sarah knelt before me, her plea for a divorce hanging heavy in the air.
The agony etched upon her face spoke volumes, her eyes ablaze with a desperate longing for freedom. It was as if the mere thought of remaining bound to me disgusted her to her very core, driving her to her knees in a last-ditch effort to break free from the chains of our crumbling marriage.
Frustration pulsed through me like a relentless tide. The need to escape overwhelmed me, propelling me to Monaco to immerse myself in the adrenaline of a car race.
With the signal urging me toward the beckoning “finish” line, my heart raced in anticipation. Behind me, my competitor inched closer, the chase’s intensity palpable. With steely determination, I narrowed my eyes, channeling all my focus into that final stretch.
As I surged forward, it was as though a cyclone of adrenaline propelled me, each passing moment a whirlwind of speed and intensity. I conquered the distance in a blur of motion, crossing the finish line with a triumphant roar, leaving my rival in the dust.
“And there it is! Philip Cornell, driving car number 5043, crosses the finish line! We have a winner!”
With a dramatic flourish, I bring the car to a halt and emerge into a blaze of flashing lights from the cameras. The crowd’s cheers crescendo around me, filling the air with an electrifying energy. As I stand in the spotlight of victory, the team converges upon me: the engineer, pit crew, spotter, and our esteemed team manager, Orlie, each offering congratulations and admiration for our triumph on the track.
I felt the persistent pressure of the massage, whoever it may have been, followed by a chorus of “congratulations!”
For a moment, I set aside my anger and embraced the joy of those relying on me. Car racing fills me with pride.
“Man! That was insane!” Orlie exclaimed, tapping me on the shoulder. “Why do you seem so pumped? I’ve never seen you this focused!”
“I’m mad,” I replied.
“Is it about your parents again?” he inquired.
I met Orlie when I was fifteen; he’s a veteran of the racing world, took me under his wing, and ushered me into the heart of the industry. He’s intimately acquainted with the twists and turns of my story.
With a casual shrug, I brushed off Orlie’s inquiry.
“Then, does it have to do with your wife?”
My expression soured with concern for Sarah.
Orlie chuckled, amused by my reaction. I avoided discussing Sarah and instead allowed my victory to amplify my emotions.
In my suite, I noticed my phone flashing, indicating an incoming call. Glancing to check the caller, I saw it was Jane. Perhaps she’d already spoken to my wife and knew what had happened.
“Hello?” I answered.
“Brother! My boyfriend watched the live car race today and mentioned you were in the Monaco race?” my sister inquired.
“Yes,” I confirmed, pouring myself some water and taking a sip. It wasn’t news to Jane that racing was my outlet for frustrations from Highland Hills City.
“Is Sarah with you?”
I attempted to maintain a casual tone upon hearing Sarah’s name. “No, I came to Monaco alone.”
“I’ve been trying to reach your villa, but no one’s picking up. I wanted to ask Sarah if she’s considering reapplying to the school here in London. I know you’re her husband, but I can’t help but feel sorry for her intellect. She turned down the London university offer for me and your marriage.”
I couldn’t help but sneer. “She declined school because she preferred living like a princess.”
“Absolutely not! Are you attempting to undermine your wife to me? Sarah is an incredibly talented student, alright? Three years ago, we both applied for an opportunity here in London. She graciously stepped aside to give me the chance, ultimately leading to her marrying you. Anyway, that’s one of the reasons I reached out to you. Can you please encourage Sarah to pursue it? She’s still young, which would waste her education!”
I sighed heavily. “We’re getting a divorce.”
“What?!” Jane’s voice crackled with shock through the phone. “Now it all makes sense. So, that means Sarah left Serenity Pines Estate!”
My heart clenched painfully in my chest at the revelation. How could Sarah leave Serenity Pines like this without a word to me? I had always assumed she would have the decency to inform me before departing the villa. But now, it hits me like a freight train-she has nowhere else to call home! She has no place to go!
I refused to entertain the thought of Sarah leaving the villa. My inner voice insisted that she belonged with me and shouldn’t go.
Fvck it!
“Seriously, what have you done, brother?!” Jane’s voice dripped with anger. “Is it about Megan?”
My expression darkened further. Megan had nothing to do with my marriage! How often had her name come up despite my lack of contact for the past three years?
“Jane, I have to go. I have a flight to catch,” I interjected abruptly. I feared I might unleash all my pent-up frustration on Jane if the conversation persisted.
I must ensure Sarah is at home.
Following my tense conversation with Jane, I urgently contacted Alex, who remained in Highland Hills. “Check your Madam Sarah’s whereabouts.”
With a sense of urgency, I hastily packed my belongings and notified Orlie that I couldn’t attend the victory party as planned due to my urgent return to Highland Hills City.This content belongs to Nô/velDra/ma.Org .
I was restless to learn about Sarah’s situation after hours of waiting for a response from Alex.
As the private plane touched down in Highland Hills City, the dawn was breaking, marking the arrival of local morning, and it was then that Alex finally provided an update.
“Boss, Madam Sarah accompanied Mr. Amir Benner. A camera spotted her with the president of TerraTraxx at the airport last night,” Alex informed me.
My fists involuntarily clenched at the news.
“Find out their destination,” I demanded, my tone edged with frustration.
“To Dubai, Boss,” Alex promptly replied.