Chapter 3
“STOP IT!” I shrieked, pushing uselessly against the muscle-bound wall of her companion.
With a third, ruthless stomp, she smashed through the front gate, shattering the delicate seashell windows and scattering them into the churning surf.
She stepped back, elegantly brushing a few specks of dirt from her ankle, completely unbothered. “Honestly, it was pathetic anyway.”
Noah remained rooted to the spot, holding the faded flag. His small body began to shake. His knuckles were white. “But,” he whispered, his voice cracking, “I built it for my dad.”
The influencer let out a sharp, theatrical laugh, making sure her microphone caught every decibel of it. “Oh, please,” she mocked, addressing her phone screen. “Kids today are so dramatic. ‘I built it for my dad!’ Chat, let me teach this kid a lesson about modern art.”
She stomped one final time, flattening the last standing corner of the fortress. “It’s just sand, kid. Get over it.”
I stopped fighting the bodyguard. I shoved past him and fell to my knees in the ruined, flattened wet sand, wrapping my arms fiercely around Noah’s trembling shoulders. He buried his face in my neck, and the dam broke. He didn’t just cry; he wailed, a deep, guttural sound of pure grief that cut through the noise of the beach.
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Above us, the influencer just rolled her eyes, turned her back, and continued talking to her screen as she walked back to her designer towel a few yards away.
I will make you regret that, a dark, furious voice whispered in my head. I don’t know how, but I will make you regret that.
