"That's right. I have more money than you, a better family background than you—does that mean I deserve to die?
"Having money isn't a sin. But you… you'll do anything for wealth and pleasure, even if it means hurting others. You're so cold-blooded. Are you even human? Don't you think you deserve to die?"
Charlotte didn't hold back at all.
In the art of hitting where it hurts, she had already won.
Ethan's heart was hollow; the wounds from his childhood had long since drained him dry. Yet, her few words managed to squeeze water out of that dry well, stirring something raw and painful inside him.
He drew in a deep breath and rose from the floor. For a moment, he laughed with a hint of madness, nodding slightly, his fingers pointing toward Charlotte.
But this time, no words would come out. Every sharp, venomous threat, every cutting remark he wanted to unleash, got stuck in his throat.
Charlotte cursed him silently, wishing him dead.
Those words crawled into his ears, searing his nerves, making his whole body ache. Rarely had someone wielded language with such lethal precision.
Ethan turned and went into the bedroom to change. Charlotte stayed where she was, listening to the loud click of the door as he left.
Her heart, which had been lodged in her throat, finally settled.
She had half-expected him to hurt her, to strike her, so she had discreetly installed hidden cameras around her home. Perhaps he had realized this, and that's why he had forcibly held back his rage.
Regardless, today she and Ethan had torn the veil off their faces. He would undoubtedly seek revenge. And her intrusion into his phone—he would not let that go easily.
Charlotte knew she had played with fire, and now it was starting to burn.
…



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