It drenched her pristine designer evening gown from head to toe, plastered her styled hair flat against her skull in dripping yellow icicles, and filled her expensive leather shoes with gooey, foul-smelling sludge. A large, soggy clump of peat moss landed squarely on top of her nose like a ridiculous clown decoration.
“My gown! This is imported silk!” Beatrice squawked, spitting out a mouthful of yellow fertilizer mud.
She tried to scramble up from the marble floor, but her sludge-soaked shoes lost all traction on the smooth floorboards.
Beatrice slipped again, landing flat on her backside with a loud, wet THWACK! right into a fallen tray of potted indoor compost, sending a fresh wave of yellow and brown sludge splashing directly across Dr. Vance’s expensive suit as federal marshals grabbed him in the hallway.
Oliver, Victoria, and young Sha stood at the top of the grand staircase, watching the sticky spectacle unfold while estate staff members pulled out their phones to record the humiliated stepmother.
