Eleanor's POV
I covered my nose with my hand, the stench was truly appalling. "How could this have happened?" I asked, my voice a perfect blend of shock and disgust.
All around us, phones that had been poised to capture my humiliation were now eagerly documenting the couple's downfall. The tables had turned spectacularly.
"Stop it! Stop recording!" Priscilla shrieked, her voice cracking as she began to sob, the disgusting liquid streaking through her makeup.
Dickson, his face contorted with rage, pointed a trembling finger at me. "You did this! You tripped him on purpose, you psychotic—"
I cut him off, my voice rising in wounded indignation. "How can you accuse me? I was blindfolded! Wasn't that bucket meant for me? Is this how you would have reacted if I was the one drenched in... whatever this is?" I gestured to the foul-smelling sludge dripping from his hair.
Dickson fell silent, his mouth opening and closing like a fish.
