Minimus Hart was so anxious that her entire head was covered in sweat. The perspiration soaked her hair and trickled down her scar-covered face.
In her wretchedness, she seed sowhat terrifying.
A cold sweat broke out all over her back. Minimus Hart looked as if she had just been fished out of water—soaked, trembling violently, her eyes filled with terror. "Because... because I helped Alia Shaw before, the maniac has held a grudge and has been constantly looking for trouble with . After all, Young Master, you used to admire Alia Shaw. When she returned, I subconsciously treated her as the future mistress. The maniac resented for this, making things difficult and targeting at every turn. I was acting in self-preservation, so... so I started to fight back."
Sophie Sullivan couldn’t help but laugh when she heard Minimus Hart claim she had treated Alia Shaw as the future mistress. "If I recall correctly, you weren’t exactly welcoming to Alia Shaw when she first arrived, were you?"
Minimus Hart truly had a way with words, capable of twisting right into wrong and black into white. Her skill in this was unmatched.
What is she trying to achieve by bringing up Alia Shaw now? Does she think I would still be jealous of a dead woman?
"She rejected the Young Master back then... and then had the audacity to return. Naturally, I wanted to vent the Young Master’s anger for him."
"Oh, now that’s a contradiction. Who was it just now who claid to treat Alia Shaw as the future mistress? As a female slave, is this how you treat your future mistress?"
Sophie Sullivan chuckled, a mocking glint flashing in her eyes.
Minimus Hart shook her head. "No... At first, I just wanted to vent the Young Master’s frustration, given that Alia Shaw had rejected him that year. But later, when the Young Master started treating her well, I naturally began to treat her as the mistress."
"Continue. I’d like to see just how much more you can twist the truth." Sophie Sullivan indifferently crossed her arms, unhurriedly watching Minimus Hart’s desperate struggle.
She was like a hunter watching her prey exhaust all its efforts in a futile struggle to save itself just monts before death.
In Sophie’s eyes, Minimus Hart was now engaged in the final struggle of a cornered beast.
Thomas Shannon tilted his head, a sense of pleasure rising in him as he looked at Sophie’s flawless, snow-white skin. He lifted his hand and gave a gentle wave.
Charlie River understood at once. He nodded, then flicked the horsewhip in his hand through the air.
SMACK!
The barbed whip struck the ground, kicking up a cloud of dust.
He approached Minimus Hart step by step. Minimus Hart trembled all over. "Charlie River... don’t co any closer..."
"Minimus Hart, you’ve brought this upon yourself. No one forced you." Charlie River’s expression was impassive as he raised his hand, the whip arcing through the air.
With a vicious whistling sound, it lashed against Minimus Hart.
AAAAAH—!
A blood-curdling scream, so piercing it seed to nearly lift the ceiling, tore through the air.
The sll of blood instantly diffused through the filthy air.
The combined odors were nauseating.
Sophie Sullivan’s brow furrowed slightly. Thomas Shannon took out a handkerchief and gently covered her mouth and nose.
The sickening stench was instantly blocked out.
Sophie Sullivan looked up at him. The corners of Thomas Shannon’s lips curved slightly as he smiled and whispered, "Satisfied now?"
"Not enough."
Sophie Sullivan raised an eyebrow, her eyes sparkling with vivacity. "This isn’t nearly enough to satisfy ."
Thomas Shannon knew what she ant by "satisfaction." A knowing expression appeared on his handso face, and he nodded gently. "Alright. As you wish."
She could play however she wanted; it was only Minimus Hart, after all.
User Comments
0 comments from readers