My Stepbrother Wants Me-Chapter 92: Violently Attacked By That Crazy Bitch

Catherine’s POV

I was walking down the stairs while texting Kiera, she hadn’t reached out to me since she left. While walking down I heard what looked like an argument.

"I am here to see my best friend. I need to know how she’s fairing!" 𝕗𝗿𝕖𝐞𝐰𝗲𝕓𝐧𝕠𝕧𝗲𝐥.𝚌𝐨𝚖

My stomach plummeted when I heard that voice. Sasha! She was here to check on Lucy.

I stopped mid the stairs and saw her standing in the main foyer. She was arguing loudly with one of the household staff.

She looked frenzied, her loyalty to Lucy clearly pushing her into some kind of hysterical defense mode.

She spotted me immediately, of course. Her head snapped toward the staircase, and her eyes narrowed into angry slits. She shoved past the staff member and headed straight for me.

"Well, look who it is," she sneered, stopping just inches away. She wore a defiant expression, clearly pumped up by her misplaced sense of arrogance. "I heard what happened to poor Lucy and for some reason, I sure know you had a hand in it."

I knew she hadn’t come for sympathy; she’d come for a performance, and I was her audience.

"Then you should be scared," I agreed, keeping my voice cool and flat, refusing to give her the rise she wanted. "Your face could be the next to get smashed.

She scoffed, flipping her hair over her shoulder. "Scared of you, huh? Try again. You have some nerve, Catherine. I know you hate Lucy. Everyone knows it. But even for you, this is low. You’re lucky Lucy’s too weak to fight you right now, or you’d get what you deserve."

The memory of that brutal beating flashed right before my eyes and I was now wishing we beat her that night too.

I slowly bent my head, looking her up and down slowly, letting my expression convey nothing but supreme disinterest. "Are you done?" I asked finally. "Because I fail to see what my presence has to do with any of this. I’m just trying to live in my own house. If you came to see Lucy, you know her room is upstairs. Now if you’ll excuse me."

I tried to step around her. That was a mistake.

Sasha grabbed my arm, her grip surprisingly strong. "Don’t you dare walk away from me when I’m talking to you, you pathetic little—"

I yanked my arm free, my eyes blazing. "Don’t touch me," I snapped. "I don’t know why you’re even in this house, but if you think you can come here and start bullying me again, you’re mistaken. Go see your friend and leave me the fuck alone, crazy sick girl."

Sasha’s face flushed a furious red. She hadn’t expected the pushback.

"You want to talk about crazy and sick?" she yelled, her voice echoing off the marble floor. "You’re the sick one! You’re the one who did that to Lucy, you jealous little psycho!"

She was mad. Truly mad. She swung her free hand, not for a full slap, but a quick, vicious swipe at my face. Subconsciously, I instinctively flinched back, bracing for impact.

Before her hand reached me, a strong arm shot out and grasped her wrist.

"Enough of your nonsense, Sasha."

It was Gabriel. He had appeared out of nowhere, his face a mask of cold fury I had never seen directed at anyone before. He was holding Sasha’s wrist with a strong grip.

Sasha, who looked shocked, twisted her arm, trying to pull away. "Take your hands off me, Gabriel! This has nothing to do with you!"

"It has everything to do with me," he said, his voice dangerously low, cutting through her rage. He shoved her away from me, careful not to let her lose her balance, but making it clear she was dismissed. "You are a guest here to see your friend, not to physically assault my sister. You need to leave now."

He gestured sharply toward the door. "Leave before I call the security team and have you thrown out. You have exactly thirty seconds."

Sasha was stunned, mouth agape. She stared at Gabriel, her rage momentarily replaced by disbelief that he was actually standing up for me. The shock seemed to fuel her anger further. She didn’t believe he would actually call security on her.

"You have any idea what you are saying?" she shrieked, pointing a furious finger at him. "You ingrate! And why are you supporting this bitch? She’s the one who hurt Lucy! Everyone knows she’s the disgusting, jealous one in this house!" She was shaking, her control completely gone.

She scanned the foyer frantically. Her eyes landed on a heavy, decorative glass vase resting on a nearby console table. In one swift, terrible movement, she grabbed a small, ornate letter opener that had been lying beside the vase, meant to look antique.

Before any of us could register what she was doing, before I could even scream a warning, she lunged. She didn’t hesitate, aiming the sharp point straight at my upper arm.

I saw the flash of metal and felt a pull of pure terror. I barely had time to throw my hands up, but it wouldn’t have mattered.

Gabriel moved faster. He threw himself in front of me, being a protective shield between me and Sasha’s desperate, violent lunge.

The sound was a brief rip.

Sasha let out a frustrated cry as the sharp point connected with something solid, not soft. She immediately dropped the letter opener, staring down at her hand, and then at the streak of red blooming on the white sleeve of Gabriel’s shirt.

Gabriel let out a sharp, barely contained breath. He was holding his left arm, his face had turned pale, but his eyes were still locked on Sasha.

The household staff, who had backed away when the yelling started, finally moved. Two men rushed forward and grabbed Sasha, who had completely frozen, staring at the blood. She was screaming again, but now it was a wild, disjointed sound of shock and fury. They dragged her toward the main door, ignoring her frantic protests and threats.

The whole scene; the yelling, the violent attack, the sudden blood; all happened in less than ten seconds. Then it was over. The large front door slammed shut behind Sasha, as she continuously screamed. "Let go of me!"

"You are going to pay for this!"

"Catherine, this is not over yet!"

I stared at Gabriel, my heart hammering against my ribs. That girl was another definition of crazy. I immediately noticed how Gabriel’s white shirt was already stained where he was clutching his forearm.

"Gabriel!" I cried, rushing to him. My hands were shaking so badly I could barely reach out. "Oh my God, you’re bleeding! Let me see!"

He lifted his hand slightly, a small, shallow but deep-looking gash visible on his forearm. The blood was welling up quickly.

"It’s fine, Catherine," he said, his voice a little strained, but surprisingly steady. He looked down at the wound, then back up at me, managing a weak smile. "It’s just a cut. Sasha has a terrible aim, apparently."

My whole body was shaking. I grabbed his arm gently, trying to look at the wound without touching it. "It’s not fine! We need to get the doctor. You took that cut for me!" Tears sprang to my eyes. "This is all my fault. If I hadn’t started arguing with her, if I had just ignored her, this wouldn’t have happened. I am so sorry, Gabriel."

I looked at the cut, then at the letter opener lying wickedly on the floor.

Gabriel reached out his good hand, his fingers brushing my hair near my temple, a gesture meant to soothe. "Hey. Stop that. It is absolutely not your fault," he said softly, his eyes were so earnest. "She attacked you. You stood up for yourself, and she reacted like a maniac. I was right here. I would always step in. I told you, I’m on your side."

He guided me toward the nearest sofa in the foyer. "Go sit down. You’re shaking. Oh, firstly, I need you to find me a clean cloth, right now, before I bleed all over this floor and Mother has a breakdown." The humor was forced, but it helped reduce the panic.

I scrambled up, my mind focused on the immediate task. "Okay, okay, a cloth. I’ll get the first-aid kit, too."

Just as I rushed toward the central staircase, looking for the housekeeper or the kit, the front door burst open and Julian rushed in from outside. He must have been out in the grounds or the driveway.

He stopped dead in his tracks, taking in the scene: me, pale and distraught, Gabriel sitting on the sofa, clutching his bleeding arm, and the two household staff members retreating back into the shadows after tossing Sasha out.

"What in God’s name happened here?" Julian demanded, his eyes wide with shock. "Why was Sasha being dragged out of the house screaming? And Gabriel, what is wrong with your arm? Are you hurt?"