Chapter 8
Eugeno sidestepped effortlessly, pinching out the cigarette between his fingers as he approached the bed,
your strength? All you have to nhter?”
Lorraine’s pathetic attempt hadn’t even come close.
Loraine sensed that familiar oppressive aura and instinctively retreated a step, though she refused to look away. Tears still glistened on her che eyes burning with hatred and something more complicated beneath
Eugene’s face hardened as he reached for her.
“Don’t!” She jerked back as if burned. “Don’t touch me.
He ignored her protest, throwing a robe over her shoulders before huling her downstairs. “Want revenge?” he asked, his voice dripping with sirchm. “Cook dinner and try to poison me, then,”
Before she could say something. Eugene had already released her wrist and shoved her into the kitchen. By the time she caught her balance, he already climbing the stairs without a backward glance.
Lorraine froze in disbelief, struggling to comprehend Eugene’s implication. He expects me to cook? Like he would die from skipping one meall And where did all the staff go?” she thought, her hands trembling with barely contained rage.
As she moved, a slow warmth pooled between her thighs, bringing back vivid memories of what happened in the car
Humiliation and rage washed over her, sending her instinctively toward the staircase. But after just two stops, reality hit her like a slap of cold water.
The anger still burned, the shame still stinging. But she knew well this was Eugene’s domain–those armed guards outside outnumbered any police presence she’d ever seen. Calling the authorities wasn’t even an option.
Storming back upstairs to confront him would be useless. It would just give him another opportunity to mock her, just like when he’d taunted her about the pillow.
Resistance seemed pointless now, so she focused on eating first. She tried to think of it like surviving a crash, though these particular injuries weren’t exactly something she could discuss.
She’d had enough, but she had no choice but to go through with it. Taking a steadying breath, she turned and entered the kitchen.
The pantry was full of food, but it didn’t have what she truly needed–poison powerful enough to kill a man.
Eugene had lost nearly an entire day’s work, something completely unacceptable for him.
When he finally sent the last email, the villa’s outdoor lights had already turned off on their own. It was almost midnight.
He retrieved two prepared documents from the safe, took a pen, and descended to the dining room. After placing the papers face dawn on the table, be continued toward the kitchen.
The kitchen’s dim lighting cast a soft amber glow. Eugene had pictured Lorraine in a flower–print apron by the stove, stirring oatmeal with occasional pauses to taste and adjust the flame.
But when he pushed the door open, reality shattered his expectations. A blackened, unidentifiable mass sat cold on the stove. The burner had been off for some time, leaving only the acrid scent of burnt grain hanging in the air.
There was Lorraine, spatula in hand, face smudged with soot. She huddled in the corner like a lost cat, her head nodding sleepily before snapping awake again and again
Chapter 8
Eugene prodded bet thigh with his shoe. “Wake up!
Lorraine startled awake, scrambling upright. “It exploded!” she shouted, eyes wild. “We need to get out The kitchan miglottadi?.
