Chapter 145: The Court Case VIII
Fiona let out a sharp cry as a single brown loafer struck her squarely in the face. Right after that, the second piece, heavy with contempt, slammed into her chest, sending a wave of pain shooting through her.
Her heart raced, thrumming with hurt and humiliation, and tears of rage welled in her eyes as the unpleasant odor of the shoe’s innards invaded her senses.
The owner clearly hadn’t been wearing clean socks. The foul scent churned her stomach. Fiona cursed silently, grappling with the reality that her once-pristine reputation was rapidly disintegrating.
Another shoe clattered against her arm, yet this one—an extravagant five-inch heel—was thrown with little accuracy; it merely grazed her. Fiona winced but felt a strange sense of relief mixed with anger. Had it struck her head or landed squarely in her chest, the injury could have been severe.
"Anymore throwing of shoes will warrant this public gathering to be dispelled..." Elder Timothy’s voice cut through the chaos, but the mild tone he used barely resembled the sharp authority he wielded in previous threats.
Fiona sneered.
No one even stepped forward to apologize for the crowd’s misconduct—none of them wanted to. Ewan didn’t even offer her a glance, nor did her mother, who sat behind her.
Fiona’s fists clenched as rage boiled within her. She felt as if the entire assembly had cast her into the muck, treating her like trash. She silently vowed to retaliate against each one of them, holding back the tears that threatened to spill over, all the while suffocating in the stench of her situation.
She loathed dirt, hated being near it, and here she was, engulfed by it. And for what? Because she had eliminated their precious model? They should have advised the foolish bimbo to back off Ewan!