She reached out to snatch Isla Prescott's phone, but Isla dodged away.
"Snatching my phone to delete the recording is useless. I've already backed it up to my email."
Violet Keith snapped, "Isla Prescott, you're so damn calculating! Who records things said in the heat of an argument between classmates?!"
"Am I the calculating one, or are you the one with a deep-seated prejudice against me? You've never even been to The Lanthian Club, yet you make up your own ideas about it just to smear my name."
"What do you want, then?" Violet Keith's tone softened slightly. "As long as you delete the recording, I'm willing to apologize."
"I don't want a flimsy 'sorry.' I want you to publicly apologize to me on the school forum for spreading those obscene rumors about me."
The rumors were already out there; an apology would be like closing the barn door after the horse has bolted. But Isla Prescott wasn't about to let Violet Keith off that easily. She wanted her to get a taste of what it felt like to be the talk of the entire school.
"You... You're going too far!"
"If you don't want to, fine. Go find yourself a good lawyer."
Isla Prescott turned to leave, but Violet Keith gritted her teeth and stopped her. "Fine, a public apology it is. But you have to delete the recording."
"I'm not deleting the recording. But as long as you learn to watch your mouth, I won't spread it around."
"And why should I believe you?"
Isla Prescott pushed Violet Keith's hand away. "Believe it or not."
In the end, terrified of a lawsuit, Violet Keith publicly apologized to Isla Prescott on the school's forum.
Isla Prescott thought that would be the end of it, but to her surprise, the school administration took notice of the post. In an effort to stamp out the "unhealthy trend" of spreading obscene rumors about classmates, they made an example of Violet Keith, not only issuing a public reprimand but also recording a major demerit on her file.
After the incident, Violet Keith cried in her bed for hours. That afternoon, she moved out of the dormitory. As she left, she shot a threat at Isla Prescott: "This isn't over between us."
Isla Prescott didn't feel she was in the wrong, so she wasn't the least bit afraid of Violet Keith's threat.
But she never expected Violet Keith to be so ruthless this time.
On Wednesday night, Isla Prescott left work at The Lanthian Club. She had just reached the side of the road and was preparing to cross when an incredibly fast motorcycle suddenly charged toward her. Luckily, Isla dodged in time to avoid being hit. But in her haste, her foot slipped on some loose gravel by the roadside. She fell, hit her head on a planter, and passed out on the spot.
When she next awoke, Isla Prescott found herself lying in a hospital room.
She opened her eyes, staring blankly at the sea of white around her, when a devastatingly handsome face suddenly leaned into her line of sight.
"You're awake."
It was Shane Sterling.
He was wearing a dark gray, lightweight sweater and sitting in a chair by the bedside. His suit jacket was draped over the back of the chair, and he looked as if he had been sitting there for a very long time.
Isla Prescott had no idea why he was here.
"You..."
"Who am I?" Shane Sterling stood up, leaning closer so she could get a clear look at his face.
"You're Sean."
"And how many is this?" he asked, holding up his hand in an "OK" sign.
"Three."
A smile blossomed in his eyes. "Good. No amnesia, and you didn't turn into an idiot."
Isla Prescott couldn't imagine how badly she must have been injured for him to be testing her like this, not until she raised a hand and felt the gauze wrapped around her forehead.
"What happened to me...?"
"You slammed your head into a stone and won yourself the grand prize of a mild concussion."
The memory of the motorcycle charging at her flashed through Isla Prescott's mind. A wave of dizziness washed over her, a sound that seemed to come from another world rang in her ears, and she felt an urge to vomit.
Seeing her face go pale, Shane Sterling's expression instantly became serious. "What is it? Are you feeling unwell?"
"A little dizzy, a little nauseous, and my ears are ringing."
"I'll get the doctor."
Shane Sterling pressed the call button on the headboard. The doctor arrived quickly, and entering with him was June Underwood, the manager of The Lanthian Club. June was holding a stack of medical reports, and she visibly sighed in relief when she saw Isla Prescott's open eyes.
The doctor gave Isla Prescott a brief examination. He explained that the dizziness and nausea were normal reactions to a concussion. As long as she got enough rest, the symptoms would subside in a couple of days and it was nothing to worry about.
"Thank you, Doctor." June Underwood saw the doctor out of the ward and then returned to Isla Prescott's bedside. "Isabelle, you scared me to death today. Thank goodness for Young Mr. Shaw. Otherwise, the consequences would have been unimaginable."
At the time of the incident, June Underwood happened to be escorting a client downstairs and witnessed the whole thing.
Her heart still pounded with fear just thinking about it. After Isla Prescott fell, that blond-haired punk on the motorcycle had even tried to run over her legs. Thankfully, Shane Sterling appeared just in time and decisively intercepted him by ramming the motorcycle with his car.