The following morning, Carmen was thrust from her home, a grocery list clutched in her hand, propelled by her stepmother's shrill commands. "We can't even leave the house because of you!" the woman yelled from the doorway. "Everywhere we go, people point and whisper, all thanks to your shameless ways!" Carmen froze on the steps, bracing for the inevitable.
Her stepmother continued, "If you had an ounce of self-respect, you'd disappear! Better yet, just die and spare this family the disgrace!"
"I didn't do it!" Carmen shouted back, her voice raw. "Those pictures and videos are fake! None of them are real!" But her words were lost, drowned out by years of identical accusations. She knew the next part by heart: no one believed her. Lies, repeated often enough, became truth.
She trudged onto the street, her stepmother's tirade echoing in her ears. Looking up, she stopped short. The hallway walls, plastered with damning photos the previous night, were bare. Only faint adhesive stains remained.
For a moment, Carmen wondered if it had all been a fever dream. Stunned, she stood there until a door across the hall opened. Felicia stepped out, carrying a small duffel bag. She saw Carmen and offered an easy smile.
"Good morning, Carmen," Felicia greeted her, as if they were casual neighbors, as if nothing were amiss. There was no judgment, no ridicule; just a simple hello.
Carmen averted her gaze, remaining silent. Felicia chuckled softly and waited for the elevator beside her.
The building was bustling. By the time the elevator reached the ground floor, it was packed. Carmen stood stoic, staring at the floor. As they neared the lobby, a balding middle-aged man smirked and drawled, "So, how much for a night?"
The elevator's atmosphere shifted instantly. A ripple of laughter arose from some passengers, while older women clucked their tongues in disgust, their scorn evident. Carmen's face paled, then flushed crimson with fury. Without a word, she swung her fist, landing a heavy blow on the man's face.
The elevator doors opened just as the man stumbled back, clutching his bleeding mouth. The other passengers practically fled, eager to avoid further confrontation. The man groaned on the floor, spitting out a tooth.
Felicia, casually stepping over him, "accidentally" stomped on his hand with her heel, twisting it slightly before walking away. "Oops," she said calmly. The man yelped and cursed, but Felicia ignored him, heading out the door.
Carmen wasn't the only one with plans that morning. Felicia's first stop was the bank, where she deposited her latest winnings, fulfilling her promise to fund her new business venture. Two million dollars were now headed to Jupiter Group, bolstering their stability.
Her second stop was the local herbal market. Felicia aimed to expand her arsenal of medicinal concoctions, from salves to antidotes. Most importantly, she planned to develop a new project—poison.
After all, if her physical strength couldn't match her enemies, she could outwit them. Poison would even the odds, a trump card she could rely on to escape danger.
Meanwhile, Carmen's grocery shopping was as miserable as she'd anticipated. The staff avoided her gaze, their expressions disdainful. One butcher barely concealed his grimace as he handed her change.
Leaving the store, her bag half-full, she felt their stares burning into her back. She thought she'd escaped once she reached a quieter street, but she was wrong. The man from the elevator stood in her path, accompanied by a large woman, presumably his wife.
"There she is!" the woman shrieked, her voice loud enough to gather a small crowd. "The filthy little tramp who tried to seduce my husband!"
Carmen froze, her grip tightening on her grocery bag. The man added, his voice dripping venom, "What, her? Do you think I'd go near that? I wouldn't touch her if she paid me!"
The onlookers murmured, some smirking, others watching with curiosity.