117 Scissors and Accusations
117 Scissors and Accusations.
Hazel’s POV
“Are you seeing Sebastian Sinclair?”
Alistair’s question hung in the air, his face twisted with Jealousy. I gripped the scissors in my hand tighter, having been in the middle of trimming loose threads when he’d barged in.
“My personal life is none of your concern,” I replied coldly, turning back to the mannequin displaying Sebastian’s suit. “You lost the right to question me when you married my stepsister.”
Alistair’s face flushed with anger. “So it is for him. I knew it.”
“You need to leave.” I kept my voice steady despite my rising anxiety. The studio suddenly felt too small with him in it.
Instead of leaving, Alistair stepped closer, his alcohol-scented breath making me recoil. “Ivy’s been dead for only two weeks, and you’re already falling into Sinclair’s arms? Did you even wait until her body was cold?”
The accusation struck like a physical blow. “How dare you? I was working with Sebastian long before Ivy passed.”
“Working,” he scoffed, eyes wild. “Is that what they call it now?”
I gestured toward the door with my free hand while still clutching the scissors. “Get out before I call security.”
“Don’t you see, Hazel? With Ivy gone, there’s nothing standing between us anymore.” His voice softened to an unsettling plea. “We can finally be together again.”
A chill ran down my spine. Had he completely lost his mind? “There is no ‘us, Alistair. There never will be again.”
“You’re just using him to make me jealous,” he continued as if I hadn’t spoken. “It’s working, I admit it. But this childish game has gone on long enough.”
I shook my head in disbelief. “This isn’t a game. This is my life-one that no longer includes you.”
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When I tried to step around him, Alistair’s hand shot out, gripping my wrist. The scissors trembled in my other hand.
“Let go of me,” I demanded, heart pounding.
“Not until you listen to reason,” he insisted, tightening his grip. “I made a mistake. I know that now. But I did it out of compassion, Hazel. Surely you can understand that?”
My phone rang suddenly, cutting through the tension. With my free hand, I pulled it from my pocket. Sebastian’s name flashed on the screen.
Before I could answer, Alistair snatched the phone from my fingers. “Perfect timing,” he sneered, hitting the answer button and putting it on speaker.
“Hazel,” Sebastian’s deep voice filled the studio. “I wanted to check if tomorrow’s fitting works for you or if we should reschedule?”
“Stay away from her, Sinclair,” Alistair snarled into the phone. “Whatever game you’re playing, it ends now.”
A brief silence followed. When Sebastian spoke again, his voice was eerily calm. “Everett. Put Hazel on the phone.”
“She doesn’t want to talk to you,” Alistair lied. “Hazel and I are working through our issues. We’re not getting divorced.”
“What?” I gasped, lunging for my phone. “That’s not true!”
Alistair held the phone out of reach. “She’s confused right now, but we’re sorting things out.”
“Alistair, stop it!” I grabbed his arm, trying to wrestle my phone back.
“Hazel?” Sebastian’s voice held a note of concern. “Are you alright?”
“I’m fine,” I called out, still struggling with Alistair. “He’s lying! He just showed up here drunk!”
“Get your hands off me!” Alistair growled, pushing me back roughly.
I stumbled, losing my balance. The scissors slipped from my grasp, falling between us. Everything seemed to slow down as they tumbled through the air, point down.
Alistair’s pained cry echoed through the studio as the scissors pierced his leg,
117 Scissors and Accusations
embedding themselves just above his knee.
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“What have you done?” he gasped, staring down in shock at the metal protruding from his thigh. Blood began seeping through his pants.
“Oh my God,” I whispered, frozen in place. “I didn’t-it was an accident!”
“Hazel! What’s happening?” Sebastian’s voice called urgently from the phone on the floor.
Alistair staggered backward, knocking into the mannequin. Sebastian’s suit jacket slid to the floor as the display toppled over with a crash.
“You stabbed me,” Alistair accused, his face pale with shock and pain as he collapsed onto a nearby chair. “You actually stabbed me!”
“It was an accident!” I insisted again, panic rising in my chest. “You pushed me!”
“Sebastian,” I called out, grabbing the phone from the floor. “Alistair’s hurt-the scissors fell-
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“I’m sending help,” Sebastian replied immediately. “Don’t move. Either of you.”
Blood continued spreading across Alistair’s pants leg, the scissors still embedded in his thigh. Despite everything, I couldn’t bear to see him injured. I grabbed a clean cloth from my workstation and knelt beside him.
“Don’t touch me,” he hissed, shrinking away from my outstretched hand.
“You need pressure on that wound,” I insisted. “And don’t remove the scissors. You could make the bleeding worse.”
Alistair’s expression shifted from pain to calculating in an instant. “You did this on purpose,” he said, voice eerily calm despite his injury. “You’ve wanted revenge all along, haven’t you?”
“That’s ridiculous,” I snapped, pressing the cloth around the wound despite his protests. “It was an accident!”
“Who’s going to believe that?” A twisted smile formed on his face. “A woman scorned, attacking her ex-fiancé in a jealous rage.”
I stared at him in horror, suddenly understanding the dangerous position I was in.
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117 Scissors and Accusations
“That’s not what happened and you know it.”
“It’ll be your word against mine,” Alistair replied, grimacing through his pain. “And I’ve got the scissors in my leg to prove it.”
The sound of approaching sirens filtered through the windows of my studio. I looked down at my hands, already stained with Alistair’s blood, and wondered how everything had gone so terribly wrong so quickly.
