Frieda's hand was tightly gripped.
Shawn's eyes were burning with fury as he berated, “Frieda, what are you doing?”
“B*tch! Scoundrels!” Frieda was unfazed and hurled more profanities in the young woman's direction, fervently wishing she could strangle the latter.
A loud and crisp slap echoed in the air.
Shawn had just slapped Frieda hard across her face.
“What's gotten to you? She's my sister,” Shawn gritted through his teeth.
Then, he cast a glance at his sister, Coralie.
Coralie covered her face in pain. She had never been slapped in her entire life. Tears streamed down her face following the searing pain as she cast a bewildered look at the drunken Frieda.
“Shawn, is this your... girlfriend?” Contempt festered in Coralie's eyes.
Frieda was stumped, both by the slap and Shawn's words.
She sobered up instantly and froze on the ground, unable to utter a word.
Shawn led Coralie into the mansion to coax her, as well as apply some medicinal ointment to her injured face.
That young woman is his... sister? Well, upon a closer look, they do look alike!
Frieda suddenly felt her body going weak as she slumped to the floor.
“Shawn, what is with the luggage? Was that your girlfriend? She sure is a friendly one, greeting me with a slap. If Mom and Dad know about this, she won't ever get to marry you!” Coralie groaned.
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