Elowen clenched her fists, her eyes burning with hatred.
It was all because of those photos Amara had brought—photos that exposed the messiness of her private life—that her father had locked her up! This was entirely Amara's fault, and right now, Elowen hated her with every fiber of her being.
Amara walked up to Elowen, giving her a slow, appraising look from head to toe.
Elowen had lost several pounds since the last time they met—clearly, she hadn’t been doing well lately, and had probably barely eaten these past few days.
“What are you staring at?”
Seeing Amara enter the room and silently survey her with a slight look of contempt, Elowen grew even angrier.
“You showed those photos to Dad a few days ago, and that’s why he locked me up. I won't forget what you’ve done! Listen, Amara—don’t think you're getting off that easily...”
Elowen had been dreaming of getting back at Amara for some time, and now that Amara had come to her of her own accord, she immediately raised her voice, hurling threats.
Amara thought Elowen was hopelessly foolish—to be in this situation and still resort to threats? Hadn’t she learned anything?
“Oh? You’re still threatening me?”
With a sharp slap, Amara raised her hand and struck Elowen hard across the face.
Elowen, weakened from not eating, toppled straight to the floor at the force of Amara’s blow. Her knee smashed against the cabinet, making her yelp out in pain.
She cupped her burning cheek and looked up in disbelief. “You dare hit me?”
“Of course I do,” Amara replied coldly.
She crouched down, grabbed a fistful of Elowen’s hair, and yanked her upward, her stare icy.


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