Page 227 of Vexatious Queen

I smiled slowly.

Not the warm one. The dangerous one.

“Oh, my dear,” I said sweetly, angling closer. “You were never competing with me.”

Her eyes flashed. “I⁠—”

“You were competing with his heart,” I continued, voice calm, cutting off whatever nonsense was coming. “And that was never on offer. You willingly signed your life away. Nothing was taken from you. You could’ve left at any time. So, if you’re miserable, you have only yourself to blame.”

Her face twisted, fury bleeding through the polish.

“You think you’re better than me?”

“No, I know who Eddie loves. Always has. Always will. No matter what you do. But I do find it sad and pathetic that you stayed.”

The silence between us snapped, and Patricia lunged.

She moved fast, nails clawing for my face, rage finally overpowering restraint. I caught her wrist and twisted, slamming her back into the piano. Keys screamed beneath her as she fought, striking wildly like an alley cat.

Her fists feebly pounded into my shoulder, my ribs. We crashed into the bench, then the wall, silk and fury tangling as years of resentment exploded into violence. I was trying not to hurt her as much as I wanted, and it was clear she lacked any real training. She was all hot emotion and no skill.

But I was done with this shit when her hand got loose, and she slapped me hard enough to split my lip.

I smiled through the blood and drove my knee into her thigh. She cried out, shoving away from me. I attacked this time. We grappled, breath ragged, bodies colliding with furniture, the room echoing with the sound of flesh on flesh and fury finally unleashed.

Patricia managed to get a fistful of my hair and yanked it. I slammed her into the floor and pressed my forearm into her throat as she gasped beneath me.

“Get off me,” she shrieked.

I leaned down, close enough for her to see the truth in my eyes.

“You wanted this life,” I murmured. “You assumed he’d eventually forget about me. That was your crucial mistake.”

“Bitch,” Patricia snarled, her teeth practically snapping like a dog.

She reached blindly for something, anything, and that was when I stopped playing fair. I slid the hidden knife from my boot into my palm with practiced ease.

Steel kissed her throat. My hand was steady as her eyes went wide.

Patricia froze.

Her breath hitched, chest heaving as I held her to the floor. One inch. That was all it took.

“If you ever touch me again,” I said quietly, “I will end this.”

“Mama!”

The scream shattered the moment.

My head whipped toward the doorway just as footsteps thundered into the living room. Victoria stood there staring at us in horror.

“What the hell is going on in here?” Eddie’s voice filled the space as the world came rushing back.

I glared down at Patricia.

“Remember what I said.”

Never breaking eye contact, I released her and rose. The knife spun once in my hand before I slid it back into the sheath.