Shirley bristled, her anger flaring. “Andrew, how dare you? This is my mother’s party! How could you bring a lowly mixed-blood witch here? What message are you trying to send?”
๐€โถล๏ฝแปืฉ๏ผฅ๐๏ฝ.ฤ๐๐ช
Her high-pitched voice silenced the murmurs and music. The room fell still.
Shirley’s voice trembled, her breath quickening. “Andrew, do you even remember what day it is Andrew ignored her question, his gaze flickering briefly before turning to me with concern. “Debra, are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” I replied with a hesitant shake of my head. “Thank you for stepping in.”
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With so many eyes on us, the potential consequences of Andrew’s inaction were terrifying. It was clear, though, that Shirley and I would’ve become the subjects of ridicule.
If Andrew hadn’t intervened, the witches would undoubtedly dissect the scene for days to come. “The clan leader’s daughter and the mixed-blood witch vying for Andrew’s attention,” would become a headline.
“Don’t worry. I’m just doing what I’m supposed to,” Andrew said, seemingly unfazed.
In other words, he was prepared for this.
“What’s happening here?” Shirley’s voice, dripping with renewed anger, echoed again. Her beautiful features contorted with rage as she stormed towards me, grabbing my arm roughly. “Stay away from Andrew! Bitch!”
Shirley’s actions darkened Andrew’s expression. “Shirley, enough!” he snapped, a frown creasing his forehead.
“No!” Shirley stubbornly threw her head back.
Tension crackled in the air.
Onlookers watched, unwilling to get caught in the crossfire of Shirley’s fury. Mediating meant risking her wrath.
Then, a sharp female voice cut through the tension. “Shirley, that’s enough.”
The unmistakable click of heels announced the arrival of the speaker.
ALL conversation ceased.
Intrigued, I turned to see a regal woman. Her features mirrored Shirley’s but sharper, her gaze more piercing.
This had to be Veronica Harrison, the clan leader.
I studied her cautiously.
Shirley’s mother? She appeared formidable.
Shirley’s entire persona flipped in an instant. Her defiant facade crumbled, replaced by desperation. Pouting, she pointed at me, whining, “Mom, it wasn’t me! She started it!”
Debra’s POV:
Looking where Shirley glanced, Veronica’s sharp eyes found me.
Her gaze was like a magnifying glass, studying me intensely, showing she held herself with power, making me feel a little uneasy.
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