Wyatt fell silent.
The way things stood in the Gibson family, every stunt Daniella and Christian pulled together only stoked Gabriel’s fury. With Daniella’s past hanging over her head, Gabriel saw her fingerprints on everything Christian did. Christian thought he was coming to Daniella’s rescue, but all he did was dig her deeper into Gabriel’s bad books. Abigail had been through solitary confinement and hunger strikes, yet she never made a scene or dragged Stephen and Christian into her mess.
When Bianca trudged downstairs with a suitcase, she shot Stephen a look. “Give me a hand.”
Stephen was in a foul mood. Grumbling, he went over to grab the luggage.
After a while, Abigail turned to Wyatt. “When are we leaving this place?”
“Is it getting to you?” Wyatt asked, half-smiling.
“Not really. I just can’t stand this toxic vibe.” Abigail didn’t feel an ounce of pity for Daniella, but the constant tension was suffocating.
“I’m not telling you to grin and bear it—just harden your heart. Daniella’s no angel. You really think she’s just manipulating Chris? Ralph said she’s been making secret calls, probably plotting to skip town now that jail time’s looming.” Wyatt had seen enough crooks pull the same move. Criminals always bolted overseas at the first sign of trouble—out of reach of the law back home.
“So you want me to stay and keep tabs on her?” Abigail asked.
“Nope. Stick around to watch her get a taste of her own medicine. If the maids give her hell, she brought it on herself.” Wyatt’s voice was ice-cold. He couldn’t care less about Daniella. In his eyes, she was reaping what she’d sown.
Maids were snobbish, anyway. And they all knew the family had covered for her hit-and-run. Who would’ve guessed she’d end up like this?
“Fine,” Abigail said, her voice deadpan. Back in the day, Daniella had let the maids push her around like this. Even after Abigail took the rap for her and did time in prison, there was zero gratitude. Instead, Daniella kept messing with her and setting her up.
After dinner, Abigail headed straight to her room.
In the dead of night, Daniella was faint with hunger. She eased her door open and groped her way down the dark stairs to the kitchen. Yanking the fridge open, she grabbed a cake, tore off the wrapper, and shoveled in several bites. Then she chugged a bottle of soda, finally feeling the hunger pangs ease, like she was clawing her way back to life. The fridge used to be full of her favorite snacks, cakes, and desserts. Now none of it was her style, but it still tasted sickly sweet.
Daniella shoveled another spoonful into her mouth, cheeks bulging, crying as she ate. Her sobs came out in quiet hitches. She didn’t know where this crushing misery came from, but she knew no one would give a damn even if she fell apart. Christian, the only one who stood by her, had been thrown out. Stephen looked at her with pure revulsion. Gabriel called her every filthy name imaginable.
Wiping her tears and sipping her drink, Daniella felt wretched to the bone.
Just then, the kitchen light flicked on. Gabriel stood in the doorway, glaring at her coldly. For the first time, Daniella saw how menacing Gabriel looked under the harsh overhead light.
She stuffed two more bites of cake into her mouth, terrified it might get taken away if she ate too slowly. She was just so goddamn starving. Following him in were the maids, roused from sleep. At the sight of Daniella scarfing down food in such a sorry state, they shot her looks of pure scorn. Shame flooded Daniella’s chest, but a moment later, she took two more bites, clutching the cake like a lifeline.
Who gives a damn? Can shame or dignity fill my belly? she thought.
“What the hell are you waiting for? Grab that from her,” Gabriel snapped.
The maids swarmed in, yanking at the cake she was clinging to. The scene felt eerily familiar. She’d done this to Abigail so many times—snatching her snacks, her trinkets, and even cheap hairpins—she’d lost count of the reasons.
Daniella broke down again, nearly hysterical. Why is this happening? What have I done wrong? The maids disrespected me first and kicked over my tray. They are the bullies, so why am I the one starving and punished? she thought.
The cake was torn from her hands. Cream splattered across the floor, and Daniella slipped barefoot, crashing to the ground. Cream coated her clothes, tangled in her hair. Red-eyed and sobbing uncontrollably, she lay sprawled, miserable and defenseless. All her old armor seemed to be ripped away at that moment.