Chapter 28
Violet's POV
Returning to that cramped apartment, I washed my face with cold water and changed into my pajamas.
The old radiator made a "hissing" noise, and the room still carried a lingering musty smell.
I collapsed exhausted onto the hard bed, just about to turn off the light and sleep.
"Bang! Bang! Bang!"
An extremely brutal knocking sound suddenly exploded in the quiet of the deep night, shaking loose bits of wall plaster.
My heart contracted sharply, sleepiness instantly evaporating.
The Brooklyn neighborhood's security had always been notoriously bad. Anyone knocking on doors late at night definitely wouldn't be anyone good.
I held my breath, quietly felt under the bed for a baseball bat I kept for self-defense, and walked barefoot to the door.
"Who is it?" I asked tensely through the door.
No one answered from outside. Instead, there was the sound of a metal key being inserted into the lock.
With a "click," the lock was actually turned open from the outside!
I stepped back in horror, raising the baseball bat high in my hands.
The door was brutally pushed open with a "bang," and the dim yellow hallway light poured in.
I immediately saw the fat landlord standing in the doorway, still clutching that set of spare keys, his face showing an ingratiating yet awkward smile.
And behind the landlord stood someone I least wanted to see right now.
Ethan.
He wore that familiar leather jacket, reeking of alcohol, his eyes terrifyingly sinister.
He pushed aside the landlord blocking his way and strode into my room, slamming the door shut behind him with a "bang."
"Ethan? Are you crazy?!" I angrily put down the baseball bat, staring hard at him, "This is my apartment! You had the landlord open my door in the middle of the night—this is trespassing! Get out!"
"Your apartment?" Ethan sneered coldly, his gaze contemptuously sweeping over this cramped room reeking of mold before finally settling on my face, "If you still won't face reality, this dump will soon no longer belong to you."
He suddenly closed in on me, grabbing my wrist in a grip so tight it almost crushed my bones.
"Let go!" I struggled desperately, but the difference in strength between men and women meant I couldn't budge him at all.
"Come to the hospital with me." Ethan fixed me with a sharp, furious stare, his voice tight with rage.
"Sienna’s wrist has a bad soft tissue injury. The doctor says she needs at least two weeks of rest—she can’t even touch her violin anymore. You’re coming with me right now, and you will kneel by her bedside and beg for her forgiveness!"
I laughed bitterly in extreme anger, the fury in my chest burning away all my reason.
"Contusion? She fell on her own!" I met his vicious gaze without backing down, my voice trembling with anger, "Ethan, is there something wrong with your brain? Today in the cafeteria, Mr. Owen Sheldon said it clearly—she deliberately fell backward herself! I didn't push her at all! Why should I apologize to her?!"
"You still dare to make excuses!" Ethan roared and violently threw me aside.
I staggered several steps, my back hitting the worn-out wardrobe with a dull thud.
"That old fool Sheldon knows nothing! He was standing way off in the distance—there’s no way he saw the truth!"
Ethan’s eyes were bloodshot, blazing like a furious wild animal.
"Sienna’s wrist is terribly swollen. She sobbed and said you intentionally held back hidden force to shove her away! Violet, when did you turn so vicious? She only wanted to look out for you, but you were consumed by jealousy and set out to destroy her career as a violinist by ruining her hand!"
Looking at this man in front of me, completely deceived by Sienna's pretense and not even considering basic logic, I felt it was absurd to the extreme.
"Care about me? Jealous of her?" I looked at him coldly, the corner of my mouth pulling into a mocking arc, "Ethan, you're really too ridiculous. I got the City Symphony Orchestra position on merit—what do I have to be jealous of her about? You'd rather believe her clumsy acting than believe the facts. Think whatever you want, I will absolutely never apologize to her, because I did nothing wrong!"
"You did nothing wrong?" Ethan looked at my stubborn appearance, the fury in his eyes gradually transforming into a kind of condescending disappointment.
He took a deep breath, straightened the collar of his leather jacket, and said in an extremely patronizing tone: "Violet, I used to think that although you were poor, you were at least obedient and well-behaved. It seems I indulged you too much before, which made you become this unreasonable and full of lies."
He took a step forward, his leather shoes creaking on the floor, looking down at me.
"I'm giving you one last chance." Ethan's eyes were cold to the extreme, as if looking at an ungrateful ant, "First thing tomorrow morning, go to the hospital and apologize to Sienna, then go to the symphony orchestra and submit your resignation. If you dare say a single 'no,' I guarantee that before the sun sets tomorrow, the landlord of this building will throw you and your luggage onto the street."
He paused, the corner of his mouth curling into a cruel smile: "Don't doubt my ability, Violet. With just one word from me, in all of Brooklyn, no place will dare rent to you. If you don't behave, prepare to live on the streets."
"You want me to apologize to that woman full of lies? Ethan, you're dreaming." I stared at him hard, my voice cold as ice, "I'd rather sleep on the street than bow my head to you."
A flash of anger crossed Ethan's eyes.
He said nothing more, directly turning to look at the fat landlord standing outside the door. He pulled out a thick stack of hundred-dollar bills from the inside pocket of his leather jacket and threw them into the landlord's arms without hesitation.
"Take this money, it's enough to buy a whole year's rent for her dump." Ethan's tone was arrogant, his chin slightly raised, "Now, make her leave."
The landlord's murky eyes instantly lit up, greedily stuffing the bills into his pocket.
He turned his head and mercilessly stuffed several crumpled bills into my hand—my deposit from last month.
"Miss Kane, really sorry, but you have to move out tonight. My humble little home is no fit place for such an important guest like you. Hurry up, I need to get cleaners in tomorrow to get rid of this poor smell."
Looking at the landlord's money-grubbing face, I trembled all over with anger, my nails digging deep into my palms, barely restraining myself from throwing those bills back in his face.
Ethan looked down at me, the corner of his mouth curling into a smug, cold smile.
He straightened his collar, his tone full of condescension: "Brooklyn's night wind isn't very pleasant, Violet. When you finally come to your senses, come to Mount Sinai Hospital in Manhattan and kneel by Sienna's bed to give the apology you owe. Until then, you can reflect properly on the streets."
With that, he turned mercilessly, his leather shoes making dull sounds on the wooden floor, disappearing at the end of the hallway.
I stood in place, angry at my own powerlessness.
In the face of capital and power, my stubbornness seemed so pale and weak.