My Fiancé Woke Up Obsessed With My Best Friend

Chapter 3

Vanessa's words sent the crowd into a fit of laughter. She stood there glowing with pride, soaking in the attention.

"Danna, have you completely lost your mind? Dreaming about marrying the richest man in New York wasn't enough—now you're making up stories about being a princess?"

She tossed her hair with a smirk. "Do you even realize that not even Loren has the credentials to meet Prince Charles face-to-face? He begged the mayor six months ago just to try and get an introduction. He's been collecting rare treasures from all over the world to impress him. Word is, the prince adores his wife so much, he spent a hundred million bidding on the Queen's coming-of-age necklace just to gift her."

"And you have the audacity to spread lies like this, dragging the prince's name through the mud just because you're bitter Loren doesn't want you? Are you seriously trying to sabotage his one shot at greatness?"

As her voice rang out, Lorenzo's face twisted in fury. Without warning, he backhanded me across the face, the force of it slamming me to the floor.

"You filthy bitch," he spat. "I didn't realize you could stoop this low. Jealousy's made you insane. You really think Prince Charles would touch trash like you?"

Vanessa rushed to his side, feigning concern as she clung to his arm. "Loren, she's pretending to be the princess. If the prince hears about this, he might think you keep company with liars. That'll kill your chances with him."

Impersonating royalty. What a joke.

I looked up at Vanessa—the same woman who once cowered like a cornered rabbit.

I remembered her clearly. She worked as a server in a hotel back then. One night, a drunk guest dragged her toward the bathroom. She nearly lost everything that night.

I stepped in. I paid her tuition, her rent, her meals. Treated her like a little sister. I bought her clothes, let her live under my roof, eat at my table. I gave her a life.

And now, she looked down on me like I was nothing.

Back then, Lorenzo had warned me: "You're too soft. People like her are dangerous. Poor and insecure—they'll bite the hand that feeds them."

And now he believed every poisonous word that snake spewed.

Suddenly, Lorenzo kicked me hard in the stomach.

"I've let you cling to me long enough," he sneered. "But today, you're going to learn your place."

He grabbed a fistful of my hair and yanked me to my feet, slapping me twice, fast and brutal.

Then, maybe realizing how it looked for a man of his status to beat a woman, he turned to Vanessa.

"Didn't she used to make you wash her underwear and rub her feet just because she had money? Well, your husband's got your back now. Go ahead—get your revenge."

He shoved me to the ground again and pinned me so Vanessa could strike.

At first, she hesitated. Then her eyes gleamed.

"Why did you get everything, Danna? Why did you get to live like a queen while I had to beg for scraps? I'm smarter than you, prettier than you. And still, you looked down on me."

She let the words hang in the air before slapping me—once, twice, again and again.

Each hit stung like fire, my face burning.

My sons—Aaron and Arthur—stood frozen in shock. Just three years old, they had never known violence. They had grown up surrounded by warmth and love. This was their first taste of cruelty.

They burst into tears, scrambling toward me.

"Mommy!"

Vanessa snatched Aaron and slapped his delicate cheeks. He fell to the floor like a discarded toy.

Lorenzo grabbed Arthur by the collar and kicked him across the room like he was kicking a ball.

"Filthy little brats," he snarled. "Send them to an orphanage later."

Arthur lay curled on the ground, trembling and sobbing. "Mom…"

The boys crawled toward me on their hands and knees, crying out with every ounce of strength they had left.

But the crowd around us just laughed. Some even joined in.

One man kicked at the children like they were playthings. Another grabbed Arthur by the hair, yanked him up, and sneered.

"Green eyes? The bastard's foreign. I bet their daddy's some French guy."

Then, with a scoff, he flung Arthur to the ground.

Lorenzo wrinkled his nose in disgust and kicked Arthur again, hard—sending his tiny body flying.