Her tone was full of self-depraved frivolity and indifference as if she had already used her identity as a “tool”.
Lawrence paused his movements.
Her words were like a bucket of water poured down from his head. The man’s face turned cold in an instant.
He grabbed Charlotte’s neck hard. With reddened eyes, he looked at her, gritting his teeth.
“Charlotte Garcia!”
Charlotte bit her lower lip hard. Although she couldn’t help trembling under his hand, she still looked up at him with a faint smile.
“Mr. Harris, what are you so angry about? As your tool, I’m doing what I ought to do and get ready. Why are you so mad?”
Lawrence’s eyebrows twitched violently.
He knew that she had done it on purpose.
She deliberately humiliated herself and provoked him.
Good job! Awesome!
The next second, the man suddenly stood up and kicked the wheelchair, which bumped onto the wall not far from him fiercely.
Lawrence squinted his eyes in anger.
“If you are so sure about what you are, I’ll help you prove it.”
He slowly unbuttoned the buttons of his shirt. Gritting his teeth, he dragged Charlotte’s arm and tossed her on the ground mercilessly.
Then there was a click from his belt buckle.
The man dragged her hair without any mercy and pressing her head down forcibly--
“Come on! Aren’t you just a tool? Show me how you do it!” Lawrence roared with reddened eyes.
Silence suddenly blanketed the room.
The girl knelt there motionlessly with her stiffened body. Her shoulders faintly heaved. The next second, her tears dropped on the ground.
She was crying.
Lawrence felt his heart tightened slightly. A stream of suffocation rushed to his heart
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