"Ah!"
Vivian Linton shrieked, stumbling into the bathroom.
SLAM!
CLICK.
Holly Sinclair shut the door and locked it.
The movements were smooth, all in one fluid motion.
Shutting out the gazes of everyone else.
Inside the bathroom, there were only three people: Holly Sinclair, Vivian Linton, and Zack.
Vivian Linton steadied herself and subconsciously smoothed her disheveled hair, her face twisted with rage.
She was the owner of the studio, always maintaining a glamorous, noble, and elegant image in front of everyone. When had she ever been this humiliated?
Fury made her drop the pretense. Her venomous gaze shot toward Holly Sinclair's face as she opened her mouth to curse—
"Holly Sinclair, you bitch—"
SLAP!
Before she could finish, Holly Sinclair slapped her hard across the face.
Her head snapped to the side. A clear, five-fingered handprint appeared on her exquisitely made-up cheek.
The corner of her eye twitched from the pain.
"How dare you hit me?!"
