And yet now, as we looked at each other, we might as well have been enemies.
“Abigail!” Logan quickly interrupted again. “If he dared to do this to me today, who knows what he’ll dare to do tomorrow? And my body still hurts like hell. If you go soft now, then all this suffering I went through will be for nothing.”
That aggrieved tone sounded like a devil’s whisper, seductive and poisonous.
It snapped clarity into Abigail’s eyes.
“Harrison,” she said calmly. “After this, you’ll learn to restrain yourself, to be obedient, sensible, and generous.”
This time, she turned around and walked away without looking back.
Logan, on the other hand, was practically smiling to the heavens. He even mouthed, 'Harrison, you lost.'
The villa doors slammed shut with a bang.
The looks the bodyguards gave me turned dark and menacing.
“Mr. Foster,” one of them said. “Don’t blame us for being ruthless. We’re just doing what we’re paid to do. Mr. Price instructed us not to let you live.”
Once I was dead, Logan could take my place, inherit everything I owned, and openly sleep with my wife.
What a neat little plan.
“You think you can kill me?” I let out a cold laugh.
The dozen bodyguards burst into mocking laughter, sneering that I was nothing but a cooked duck—tough talk with no way out.
One of them then took out a bottle of pills, while another pried my mouth open.
But at that exact moment, the villa doors were kicked open.
Then a sharp female shout rang out, “You dare lay a hand on my brother? I’ll chop off your filthy pig hooves!”
