"Explain yourself. Why did you push Jamie?"

His voice was eerily calm, a stark contrast to the brewing storm Nicole sensed.

This feeling was all too familiar to Nicole, having faced it before more than once. It sent a shiver through her.

Her entire being dreaded the calm before the storm.

I didn't push her." With quivering lips, Nicole stammered, Jarrod nonchalantly brushed back his wet hair. Despite being soaked, he remained unruffled and composed.

He accepted a lit cigar from a bystander and leaned back against the railing. Then, he drew a light puff and casually asked, "Did Jamie just fall on her own?"

"Well... She grabbed my hand..." Nicole tried to explain.

Before she could finish, Jarrod flicked his cigar, and it fell dangerously close to her fingertips.

The glowing ember nearly scorched her skin.

Jarrod pressed the tip of his shoe under Nicole's chin, tilting her face up toward him. When he spoke again, his voice was slow and deliberate.

"So, you're suggesting Jamie tried to set you up, but instead, she fell herself?"

The hard leather of Jarrod's shoes pressed uncomfortably against her chin.

Nicole could only look up at him with a mix of bitterness and fear.

"I didn't push her, I swear..."

Jarrod's sneer was cold and dismissive. Standing at almost 5 feet and 11 inches, he loomed over Nicole, making her feel as insignificant as an ant.

“You refuse to admit it, don't you?" he taunted.

He gestured to a nearby bodyguard and ordered, “Tell me what you saw.”

The bodyguard, fully aware of his allegiance, bowed his head and replied without hesitation, "I saw her push Miss Powell!"

His loyalty was clear. Regardless of what he saw, the truth was secondary to serving his master.

Another bodyguard chimed in hastily, “I saw it too."