Chapter 1563: Chapter 1563: Everyone Can Have Her?
She was completely different from Joan Harry; she didn’t even quite understand what Joan was trying to express.
“But Mr. Pierson told , no matter who wins or loses, we’ll both get a cut. At least fifty or sixty thousand, and at most over a hundred thousand.” Cici was particularly cheerful. “Why do you look unhappy? What, you don’t like money? People playing this kind of ga—there aren’t many who don’t like money, right?”
“Can you leave?” Joan Harry issued an eviction order, her voice trembling slightly.
Even though the suite’s heating was sufficient, she felt as though she were standing in a cold wind.
So cold.
Cold to the bone.
“I really don’t get why you’re pretending to be so reserved,” Cici sneered disdainfully. “Let tell you, Mr. Pierson despises won who act reserved in bed. If you can’t satisfy him, he’s the type who won’t hesitate to use force on won.”
“I don’t want to see you again.”
“Don’t want to see ? Fine with . Do you think you’re better than ? I admit I’m selling myself for money, but you? Aren’t you the sa? In a place like this, still pretending to be pure—I’ve honestly never seen anything like it.”
Joan Harry’s nerves began to unravel and collapse bit by bit.
Sothing in her mind—a string—snapped with a sudden “twang.”
The ringing in her ears was deafening, her head faintly throbbing.
Her chest felt as though an invisible hand was clutching it tightly, making it hard for her to breathe.
She admitted that what Cici said was true, but she couldn’t believe she had truly fallen so low—to beco a plaything for n.
Her face grew paler and paler, devoid of any color.
“I originally ca here to exchange thoughts and experiences with you, but now I see how boring you are. Looking at it this way, I hope Mr. Pierson wins. Then I can watch you end up in his bed, still acting all fake and self-righteous.” Cici scoffed and turned to leave.
The sound of her high heels quickly disappeared down the corridor, along with the scent of her perfu.
But her words still echoed in Joan Harry’s ears, each syllable pounding relentlessly.
Every word, every sentence—like a knife.
As Cici walked away, Joan Harry collapsed entirely, an indescribable sensation spreading through her body.
She had thought Jesse Rowan brought her here for simple amusent, but she hadn’t anticipated… this deranged ga.
She wasn’t an open or uninhibited person; even being by Jesse Rowan’s side felt humiliating to her, let alone being passed around to other n.
What did he take her for?
A woman who could be shared by anyone?
Joan Harry’s body grew colder and colder; she hugged herself tightly and squatted down.
The walls were icy too. Joan leaned against them, motionless.
Her long black hair spilled over her shoulders, further accentuating the paleness of her face.
She had always been slender, but now she looked like a discarded rag doll, utterly broken.
If Jesse Rowan won, Cici would be his.
If Jesse Rowan lost, she would belong to Wayland Pierson.
Ha… Joan Harry let out a laugh.
Whether it was a win or a loss, the n were the winners, and the won were rely objects being handed around.
The light shone directly down on Joan Harry’s face, her smile tinged with tragic despair.
Her heart—the place where her heart was—hurt unbearably, as though a knife was carving into it, leaving it bloodied and raw.
Around her, there was nothing but silence.
At that mont, a thought suddenly flashed through Joan Harry’s mind: escape.
As long as she could escape this hotel, just survive one night, she would have more ti.
She didn’t want to be toyed with by n.
This thought grew stronger, crashing into her nerves. She staggered to her feet, grabbed her coat, and threw it on haphazardly.
User Comments
0 comments from readers