Rianne's words were met only by the sound of breathing on the other end of the line.
Twirling the phone cord, her eyes grew cold, her face expressionless. Yet, she sniffled, her voice thick with emotion. "I understand, Mark."
After a long pause, Michael finally spoke, "As long as you behave, I won't mistreat you."
Instantly, Rianne lost the will to engage, lazily stretching her body. She found a pretext, her tone still carrying a hint of grievance. "Mark, I'm tired. I want to sleep."
"Alright."
...
The next morning, Rianne followed her routine, heading to the balcony to feed the Cocoa orange cat.
"Cocoa?"
Usually, at the sound of her voice, the cat would emerge from its bed, circling and rubbing against Rianne's legs, meowing for attention.
This time, there was no response. A sense of dread settled in Rianne's heart. She crouched down to check the cat bed and saw Cocoa lethargically lying in a corner. It lifted its head weakly, meowed once, and blood dripped from its mouth.
"Cocoa?" Rianne's voice trembled.
She swiftly, yet gently, placed Cocoa into a carrier and rushed outside. Carefully placing the cat in the passenger seat, Rianne's hands shook so violently she almost lost her grip on the steering wheel.
Sensing her distress, Cocoa attempted to respond, but could only manage faint gasps. Hearing that weak sound, Rianne's frayed nerves snapped, and tears began to fall in large drops.
"Cocoa, don't sleep. I'll save you. Please, hold on!"
"Meow..."
The cat struggled to respond, coughing up more blood, its amber eyes fixed on Rianne.
"Don't speak, I understand, I understand..."
Rianne floored the gas pedal, reaching the veterinary hospital in record time.
"Doctor! Please save Cocoa! I beg you!"
The veterinarian quickly took Cocoa for emergency treatment. After a while, he sighed and set down his tools.
"My condolences."
Inside, the vet was shocked. He had seen many pets in dire conditions, but never a cat that died with its eyes wide open, staring fixedly in one direction.
"Cocoa..."
Rianne collapsed against the operating table, her trembling hand gently stroking Cocoa's still-warm body.
She desperately wished this was a cruel joke, that the next moment, Cocoa would nuzzle her arm with its furry head, meowing softly.
In a cold, detached voice, she asked, "I want to know what caused Cocoa's death."
The veterinarian immediately ordered a post-mortem examination.
When they began extracting small stones from Cocoa's stomach, filling an entire tray, Rianne's breath caught.
The vet, familiar with Rianne's love for her pet, advised, "Ms. Kroes, you should investigate this. These stones didn't end up in the stomach by accident; the gastric fluid also tested positive for toxins."
Rianne's heart clenched painfully. Cocoa had endured such suffering, and she had been oblivious!
"I understand," she replied, her lips pale. "Please take care of Cocoa for now. I'll bring her home once I've found the one responsible for her death."
...
Rianne had a clear idea of who could have harmed Cocoa.
Who else had free access to the villa besides Abigail? And all with Michael’s tacit approval.
Upon returning home, Rianne went straight to the security office to review the footage. Sure enough, two days ago, while she and Michael were away, Abigail had sneaked into the villa.
In the video, Abigail initially played with Cocoa, but the cat showed little interest. Growing impatient, Abigail grabbed the cat aggressively, only to be scratched in return.
In a fit of rage, she cruelly forced small stones into Cocoa's mouth.
Seeing this, fury surged through Rianne, her once warm eyes turning icy.
She sent a message to Abigail, pretending it was from Michael.
Abigail arrived eagerly, expecting to see Michael, only to find Rianne waiting for her on the sofa.
"What are you doing here?" Abigail exclaimed in shock.
"Disappointed to see me?" Rianne's lips curled into a smile. "But I've been eagerly anticipating your arrival."
"Slap!"
Before Abigail could react, a hard slap landed on her face, leaving her stunned and her cheek burning.
"What are you doing?" Abigail clutched her cheek, eyes wide with anger.
Rianne's gaze was cold, "Teaching you a lesson."
Then she began slapping Abigail repeatedly.
"Slap!"
"Slap!"
...
The sound of slaps echoed through the large living room.
Michael returned home to the sound of slaps and saw the maids hiding in corners, eagerly watching the scene unfold.
"Brother Michael! Brother Michael! Save me! Rianne's gone mad; she wants to kill me!"
Beaten into submission, Abigail saw Michael as her savior and struggled to hide behind him.
Michael's dark eyes glinted coldly as he glanced at Rianne. The usually gentle woman was now a vengeful fury.
Rianne shouted at Michael, "Move aside."
Michael grabbed her wrist, positioning himself between the two women. "What’s gotten into you?"
"She killed Cocoa!"
Rianne trembled, not expecting Michael to question her while defending Abigail.
But she was too consumed by rage to care about Michael’s stance.
Abigail defiantly shouted, "It's just a cat! A mere animal! What's the big deal if it died?"
Just a cat? It was her cat, a gift from Mark, her emotional anchor after Mark left!
In her fury, Rianne tried to push past Michael to get to Abigail, but he blocked her, causing her to nearly fall.
"Enough!" Michael's voice was cold as he stared at Rianne. "If you want another cat, I'll buy you one. Or two."
"Is this about buying another one?"
Rianne's resolve crumbled, her voice shaking as she demanded, "Abigail killed Cocoa; she must be punished!"
"Hasn't she been punished enough? You’ve slapped her plenty." Michael’s eyes were dark. "Or do you want Abigail to pay with her life for a cat?"
Rianne was momentarily stunned before a mocking smile twisted her lips. She whispered to herself, "I knew it. No matter how much you look like him, you’re not Mark. He would never treat me this way."