At that moment, Darcy answered a call, her tone sharp and annoyed. “So what if you’re stopped on the road? It’s your problem if you can’t get here. Why are you even driving, you old hag?” 

She hung up the phone immediately, but I recognized the frantic voice on the other end—it was Mona. 

Darcy’s car was blocking the road, preventing Mona from getting back! She was rushing home to cook, and even if she had to walk back carrying the groceries, it would take her some time. 

I was done for. 

Darcy crouched down in front of me, her eyes glinting with malice. 

“Look at what you’ve done to my man’s villa. How should I punish you for that?” 

One of the women with her picked up a bucket of bright, colorful paint and poured it over my head.