Transmigrated as the Villain Boss's Precious Darling Chapter 9: Slapping Oneself

Nan Thorne’s discouragent lasted only a minute before her energy returned in full force. ’I’m the invincibly cute Nan Thorne, not that wretched girl. Even if Adrian Hawthorne is an iceberg, I’ll be the one to lt him.’

She skipped ahead and knocked on the door a few tis, shouting loudly, "Aunt Green! Mr. Hawthorne! It’s , Nan Thorne! Open up!"

Leaning against the door, Adrian Hawthorne raised an eyebrow. ’This little brat is being so sweet. She must be planning to stir up trouble again.’

’Every ti this girl calls soone so sweetly, it ans she’s about to cause a storm. The first few tis, I didn’t know any better and always fell for this little brat’s tricks. After all, she is pretty cute when she calls brother.’

’But however cute she is when she calls brother, that’s how detestable she is when she’s causing trouble. This girl is a little demon.’

Rosalind Green heard it too, and her tears stopped out of fear. She asked, terrified, "What is that girl doing here again? Hasn’t she hurt you enough?"

Adrian Hawthorne opened the door. His eyes fell on three figures bundled up like clumsy bears. The biggest one was carrying a basket covered with a cloth, hiding its contents. But Adrian Hawthorne slled blood; it was almost certainly at.

’The Thorne family... sending him at?’

’The sun must have risen from the west.’

"Mr. Hawthorne, I’m over here."

Feeling ignored, Nan Thorne stood on her tiptoes and waved her hands vigorously. ’I’m standing right in front, why isn’t he looking at ?’

The corner of Adrian Hawthorne’s mouth twitched. ’This little brat is so short and round,’ he thought. ’She’s actually kind of cute when she isn’t causing trouble. Too bad she’s so arrogant and willful. Felix Thorne is a crude man; he only knows how to spoil his child, not how to discipline her.’

Having finally caught the future bigshot’s attention, Nan Thorne swallowed nervously. ’How am I going to get into Adrian Hawthorne’s good graces?’

’Should I try to be adorable or just act cute?’

She didn’t agonize over it for long, because then she saw the right side of Adrian Hawthorne’s face. It was bruised and swollen, the corner of his mouth split open. His uninjured half was handso and cold, and the stark contrast between the two sides pierced Nan Thorne’s heart.

’And this was the handiwork of her "mother"!’

’You don’t hit people in the face, and you don’t insult their mothers.’

’Phoebe Huxley had not only slapped the future bigshot’s face, but she’d also insulted his mother. No wonder that thorn of resentnt remained lodged in Adrian Hawthorne’s heart. When the Thorne family later t with disaster, he hadn’t kicked them while they were down, but he hadn’t lifted a finger to help, either.’

"What are you all here for?" Adrian Hawthorne asked, his voice cold.

His voice was even colder than his deanor, laced with shards of ice.

Howard Thorne lifted the cloth on the basket, revealing a glistening cut of fatty pork. The at was very fresh, obviously from a pig butchered that day. It was a generous amount, too—at least five pounds, which would be considered a grand gift anywhere.

"My dad had us bring this over. Thanks for saving Nan on the mountain."

Howard Thorne didn’t seem to want to speak with Adrian Hawthorne and set the basket on the ground.

"Take it back!" Adrian Hawthorne had no intention of accepting the at.

Although his stomach protested, his pride would not allow it.

Jim Thorne’s explosive temper flared, and he opened his mouth to start cursing, but Nan Thorne quickly cut in. "Mr. Hawthorne, it’s all my fault! Mom was only angry because she was worried about . Why don’t you just slap ? You can hit as hard as you want!"

She closed her eyes, fearlessly presenting her face to Adrian Hawthorne. ’As long as the bigshot isn’t angry anymore, I’d willingly take ten slaps.’

A cold laugh sounded from above her. Adrian Hawthorne sneered, "If I actually hit you, you’d just run ho and tattle, wouldn’t you?"

’I won’t fall for that again.’

"No! If you don’t believe , Mr. Hawthorne, I’ll... I’ll do it myself!"

In her desperation, Nan Thorne slapped herself hard across the face. The crisp sound of the impact stunned even Adrian Hawthorne. Red fingermarks blossod on the chubby girl’s fair, tender cheek, and it imdiately began to swell.

She clearly hadn’t held back.

’Did she hit her head that hard?’