"Was this what you meant when you said everything was under your control?" The man asked as soon as they reached the apartment.
Beatrice trembled in her place, flinching at the sound.
"Trust me, uncle. They are softening—" She couldn't complete her sentence when the man raised his hand and slapped her hard.
A weird ringing sound echoed in her head as she fell to the side, tasting the familiar metallic taste in her mouth.
Tears brimmed in her eyes as she looked at the carpet helplessly.
"Don't try to trick me. I am not Lloyd. It's been seven years, and you are yet to get onto that man's bed, and you are telling me they are softening? Didn't I see the look that old man threw at you? That senile bastard is just like he was seven years ago." The man spat beside Beatrice, and the girl flinched slightly.
Rather than staying down, she got on her knees and immediately grabbed the man's legs.
