The Bond Between Us (Anastasia and Herman)

Sandy was completely unhinged—she actually leaned over and offered Anastasia

her other cheek, practically inviting another slap.

That smug grin on Sandy's face, the wild glint in her eyes—it made Anastasia

think, This woman is out of her mind.

Way more unhinged than Julie ever was.

"You're insane," Anastasia snapped, then landed a sharp slap on Sandy's other

cheek.

Now both sides of Sandy's face were red and swelling.

But Sandy just let out a reckless laugh. "Anastasia, want to hear all the juicy

details about me and your husband? I was there when they pulled him out of that

tunnel. When he woke up, he didn't remember a thing. I told him I was his

girlfriend—he believed me. He followed me back to Willowbrook, we stayed at

Villa Floradale, and every night we were tangled up together. Did he tell you

nothing happened between us?"

Sandy rambled on, feeding off the cracks forming in Anastasia's expression.

She'd always hated how Anastasia trusted Herman like he could do no wrong.

Sandy didn't believe anyone should have that kind of trust in another person.

She was sick of hearing people talk about how perfect Anastasia and Herman

were together—she wanted to blow up the illusion for everyone to see.

There's no such thing as forever love. There's only forever self-interest.

"He came to Willowbrook to find me, you know? Want to hear what he said?"

Sandy's eyes sparkled as she watched Anastasia. "He begged me to stay away

from you, not to mention the past. He's scared, Anastasia. No one can deny what

happened between me and Herman at Floradale—not even you."

The more vague and suggestive Sandy got, the more rage welled up inside

Anastasia, and for the first time, doubt crept in too.

Sandy walked off, satisfied. She'd gotten exactly what she wanted.

Anastasia felt icy cold, like the chill had sunk right into her bones. She didn't go

back to the ballroom. Instead, she slipped away on her own, her shoulders

hunched like a turtle retreating into its shell.

For a moment, she had no idea how to face Herman.

How was she supposed to trust him, after this?

Whatever happened between him and Sandy at Floradale—no one could ever

take that away.

Inside the party—

Herman noticed Anastasia had been gone way too long. He called her. She didn't

pick up, but she was worried he'd start to wonder what was going on, afraid he'd

realize she ran off—her pride couldn't take that.

So she texted him: Monica needed something, I left early. Don't worry about me.

Just enjoy yourself.

She used Monica as cover.

Herman read the message, brow furrowed. He was sharp—he knew immediately

something was off.

Just then, his assistant Nelson walked over. "Mr. Salstrom, I just saw Sandy from

Morton Group here—"

"Where is she?" Herman's voice was cold, with a dangerous edge.

If Anastasia left in a hurry, it had to be because of Sandy.

—

In the lounge—

This was the spot where the ladies touched up their makeup and changed intonoveldrama

fresh dresses between bites of hors d'oeuvres and champagne.

Sandy was there, pressing an ice

pack to her swollen face. Her phone

buzzed Sean was calling on

FaceTime, urging her to leave. The

second he saw her bruised cheek, he

nearly lost it.

When he found out Anastasia had hit her, he was furious, vowing to put Anastasia

in her place.

But Sandy just grinned, strangely satisfied. "Totally worth it. Those two slaps

rattled her. That's all I wanted."

Just thinking about Anastasia's face in that moment made Sandy feel like she got

a bargain out of the whole thing.

Sean stared at Sandy, completely bewildered. Two slaps, just to make Anastasia

miserable?

He had a bad feeling—Sandy was getting more and more out of control, and there

was no turning back.

He was about to say something when a loud bang echoed from the other end—a

door kicked open.

Sandy jumped. She looked up and saw Herman in the doorway, his gaze icy and

dangerous.

Without missing a beat, Sandy hung up on Sean and flashed a sly smile.

"Herman, you must really care about me, tracking me down like this..."

She didn't even finish before his hand shot out and closed tightly around her

throat.

Herman's grip was cold and

unforgiving. The ice pack slipped

from her hand and clattered to the

floor, everything on the vanity table

crashing down as she jerked away.

His eyes were like steel, his voice

ice-cold. "I warned you—if you ever

show your face again or start

running your mouth, I won't let you

off so easy."