Chapter 3
The gravel of the driveway crunched loudly beneath Claire’s designer shoes. She kept her eyes focused entirely on the heavy iron gate ahead, her grip on Evan’s hand firm and protective.
Behind them, the rapid, angry clicking of expensive heels signaled that Diane was giving chase. The older woman, still absurdly carrying the heavy silver plate of roasted chicken thighs, marched down the driveway, her rosy face now flushed with an ugly, dark rage.
"Turn around when I am talking to you!" Diane demanded, her American accent shrill and breathless.
Claire slowed her pace just enough to ensure Evan wasn't being dragged, but she refused to acknowledge the woman.
"Don’t embarrass me over one little joke!" Diane yelled, her voice dripping with an angry, mocking tone. She stepped in front of Claire, cutting off her path to the gate. "You walk out of this party, and I will cut off your allowance permanently! You hear me? You and this little brat will have nothing!"
Claire suddenly stopped. The bright, cinematic sunlight illuminated the profound, terrifying shift in her demeanor.
"A joke," Claire repeated, her voice a deadly, freezing whisper.
Before Diane could even blink, Claire’s free hand shot forward. She slapped Diane across the face with a force that sounded like a gunshot.
The impact was devastating. Diane’s head snapped violently to the side. Her legs gave out instantly, sending the sixty-three-year-old woman tumbling hard onto the gravel driveway. The silver plate flew from her hands, clattering loudly against the stones as the roasted chicken thighs scattered through the dust and dirt.
"Ah! You bitch!" Diane shrieked, clutching her rapidly bruising cheek, her eyes wide with shock.
Claire did not hesitate. She bent down gracefully, her movie-star features locked into a mask of pure, unadulterated fury. She picked up one of the largest chicken thighs from the dirt, the greasy skin now coated in gravel and dust.
"Claire, stop!" Diane gasped, trying to scramble backward on her hands and knees.
Claire grabbed Diane by the front of her expensive silk blouse, hauling her partially upward. With brutal, unyielding force, Claire shoved the filthy, gravel-covered chicken thigh directly into Diane’s mouth.
Diane gagged, thrashing and struggling wildly against the younger woman’s terrifying grip, but Claire held her firmly in place, forcing the dirt and meat past her lips.
"Eat it," Claire hissed through clenched teeth.
After a long, agonizing second, Claire shoved the older woman backward, letting her collapse into the dust, coughing and choking violently on the ruined food.
Claire stood up, straightening her posture. She reached down, took Evan by the hand, and began walking toward the gate once more.
May you like
After three steps, Claire stopped. She turned back slowly, the bright sun casting a long, intimidating shadow over the gasping matriarch. She looked down at Diane lying in the dirt, her eyes radiating a controlled rage and a devastating certainty.
"Enjoy it," Claire said, her voice echoing clearly over the silent lawn. "That’s the last piece of meat you’ll ever eat in your life."
