Where Petals of Vengeance Bloom novel Chapter 38

"Mr. Anderson..."

Brian's brow furrowed ever so slightly, his deep, cold voice carrying an oppressive weight. "Are you afraid of me?"

Claire lowered her gaze, hardly daring to breathe.

Afraid?

How could she not be?

His methods, she had experienced them all during her time in prison. He had stripped away her dignity, left her in agony, yet kept her alive, forcing her to endure each grueling day.

When facing the Linwood family, she could muster some courage to resist.

But in front of him, all her courage vanished, replaced by a fear that seeped into her very bones.

Her eyes were wide with panic, her hands clutched the hem of her shirt so tightly that her knuckles turned white.

"Mr. Anderson, I've explained everything to Miss Anderson. Can I... can I leave now?" Her voice was rushed and trembling, the pitch quivering with sheer terror.

She dared not meet Brian's gaze, yet she could feel the icy indifference emanating from him.

He tilted his head slightly, as if he were a king gazing down at an insignificant ant.

"Explained?"

His lips curled into a frosty smirk. "Your father promised me you would kneel and apologize to my sister until I was satisfied."

Claire's face drained of color. She looked up sharply at the man, only to drop her gaze again under his piercing stare.

Memories of the humiliation and pain she endured in prison flashed through her mind like a haunting slideshow, those days of torment making her instinctively want to prostrate herself before him, begging for mercy.

She had abandoned it long ago to survive.

Brian watched in silence, his mood only darkening despite Claire's submission. This was the scene he had longed to see, yet now that it was before him, there was no satisfaction, only a growing, indescribable frustration.

Claire's forehead split open, and bright red blood trickled down her face, dripping onto the pristine floor, slowly spreading into a stark, crimson stain.

Yet she seemed oblivious to the pain, repeating the motion of bowing, her words a constant murmur: "I'm guilty, I was wrong, please, Mr. Anderson, spare me."

Each word was punctuated by the sound of her forehead meeting the floor.

Brian's fists clenched, a storm raging in his eyes.

He failed to notice that as Claire begged for mercy, the eyes of the woman lying in bed, Irene, flickered beneath closed lids, a single tear slipping from the corner of her eye, disappearing into the pillow.