Jim, furious and humiliated, sprang at me like a wounded animal desperate for vengeance. But I wasn't the one cornered. He thought he could catch me off guard, that my earlier kick was just a lucky shot.
I didn't blame him for attacking me after I had taught him a lesson by giving him a hit on his groin, I only felt bad for him that he was going to have to suffer worse.
He had no idea who he was dealing with.
The moment he rushed me, my body reacted faster than my thoughts. Years of training under General Choi were tattooed into my bones. I may be rusty because it has been a while but, I still have my substance.
I twisted to the side, grabbing his shirt collar and yanking his momentum off course. He crashed into the wall with a loud grunt.
"Still wanna dance?" I asked, backing into stance. My feet spread evenly, knees slightly bent. Hands up, left loose, right tight. Just like Choi drilled into me for years.
Jim wasn't finished. He staggered upright, red-faced and wild-eyed. "You think this is a game? You bitch!"
He charged again, his fist flying toward my face. I ducked and drove my elbow straight into his ribs. The sound he made was ugly—a wheeze cut in half.
Then, with sharp precision, I pivoted and grabbed his arm mid-swing. One twist. One fluid movement. And—
Crack.
His scream echoed through the house. I hope the neighbours didn't hear that.
At that point I wondered if I was doing the right things disciplining him for trying to rape me. Would Anne applaud me or fire me for injuring and humilating her lover boy.
He dropped to his knees, clutching his now useless arm, tears springing to his eyes. "You broke my fucking arm!"
I looked down at him, my breath calm but my heart still racing. "You brought this on yourself."
He groaned, eyes wide with disbelief. "You—you psycho! You'll regret this!"
I crouched low, grabbing his chin and forcing him to look at me. "No, you will regret ever thinking you could touch me without permission. If you ever come near me again, if you even think about stepping into my room, I'll break the other arm. And I won't stop there."
His pupils dilated. My tone was calm, but every word was a nail in his ego's coffin.
I released his face and stood tall. "You're lucky I'm in a good mood tonight. You're walking out of here with a broken arm, not a broken spine."
Jim staggered to his feet, holding his arm like it might fall off. His hair was messy now, sweat on his forehead, and his cologne reeked stronger—mixed with the stench of panic and pride collapse.
"You're gonna pay for this," he hissed.
"At least you have paid for your crimes already," I said with a smirk, "Don't forget—you're Anne's little plaything. You think she'll keep you after hearing this?"
He hesitated. Then, like a dog who knew the fight was lost, he turned and limped away, cursing under his breath.
I locked the door behind him.
The silence that followed buzzed with adrenaline. I leaned against the wall, closed my eyes, and exhaled slowly. My arms shook—not from fear, but from release.
I'd done it.
I wasn't that eighteen-year-old naive girl anymore. I didn't want to hurt anybody who hurt me at that time because I was to weak to think of it, I channelled all my energy thinking of General Choi abandoned me or something bad happened to him. I wasn't helpless. I never would be.
But still... it never got easier.
This wasn't the first time a man had looked at me like I was something to possess. A prize. A challenge. A body, not a person. I'd grown used to that look, especially after I turned sixteen.
You see, people always assume you're asking for it when you're shaped like me.
Curves? Check. Full bust? Check. Hips that can stop traffic? Unfortunately, check. Add long, thick hair, pouty lips, and almond-shaped eyes, and suddenly you become the dream and the threat all at once.
I've had women glare at me for "trying too hard," when all I did was exist. And men? Some of them see me and lose all common sense, thinking my body is an open invitation.
General Choi taught me early—your beauty is your power, but it can also be a curse. That's why he made sure I knew how to defend myself before I even understood why I needed to.
I pushed off the wall and headed to the bathroom. My hands trembled a little as I washed the sweat from my face. My eyes in the mirror were sharp, alert.
I'd barely stepped out when my phone buzzed. It was on the nightstand, still half-charged from earlier. I picked it up, squinting at the screen.
Anne.
Of course.
I answered. "Hello?"
"Sidney," Anne's crisp voice rang through the speaker. "I'm arriving this morning. Early. Flight landed thirty minutes ago."
I blinked. "This morning?"
"Yes. I'll be home in less than an hour. Please prepare my breakfast. The usual—organic eggs, gluten-free toast, chamomile tea. And make it fresh."
"Got it," I said, suppressing the urge to sigh. "Welcome back."
She hung up before I could say more.
I wondered if Jim had left and I wondered if he told Anne what happened? Was he going to tell her? I don't have any idea.
From mortal combat to chef mode, all in one.
I tossed the phone on the bed and headed straight to the bathroom again, washing up quickly and changing into something clean. My body ached from the fight—nothing serious, but enough to remind me I'd used muscles I hadn't tested in a while.
As I walked into the kitchen, I glanced around the house. No signs of Jim. Good. I hoped he limped all the way to his car, gripping his precious ego with his one good hand.