BOOK8 Chapter8
Amelia, trailing closely behind, grew increasingly irate at Michael’s concern for me. Pouting and sounding hurt, she complained: “Michael, what’s this about? You rushed over here and now you’re calling an ambulance for her?”
“Do you really care that much? Didn’t you say you only loved me? How can you
hold her like that?”
Michael ignored Amelia, his eyes locked on me as if fearing I might stop breathing
at any moment.
Frustrated, Amelia stepped forward and grabbed Michael’s hand.
“Michael, snap out of it! I’m the one you love! How can you be so focused on her and disregard my feelings?”
“What does she have that I don’t?”
One of Amelia’s bodyguards chimed in: “Exactly, Mr. Jackson. She underwent surgery to look like Amelia, but she’s just a cheap imitation. Don’t let her hurt. Amelia’s feelings!”
“Right! She had surgery to resemble Amelia just to seduce you. Don’t fall for it!”
“Don’t let her pathetic act sway you. She brought this on herself! She even said
Amelia was her stand–in. She deserves worse than this!”
As they spoke, Michael’s expression darkened.
Finally, he fixed a cold, piercing gaze on me and said: “Olivia, don’t worry. None of those who hurt you will escape justice.”
His words, though quiet, were clear. Shock registered on everyone’s faces.
Amelia frowned: “Michael, you’re joking, right?”
Her bodyguards quickly reassured her: “Amelia, Mr. Jackson loves you. He
wouldn’t punish us for another woman–he must be joking.”
“Yeah, this woman is probably just Mr. Jackson’s mistress. He knows her.”
“Don’t worry, Amelia. Mr. Jackson wouldn’t blame you over some mistress. He’s just humoring her.”
Michael ignored them, his attention still on me: “Olivia, don’t scare me. Open your
eyes and talk to me.”
He kept calling my name, gently stroking my face.
I felt his body trembling, his voice tinged with fear. I struggled to open my eyes and speak, but only a weak, raspy sound came out.
Blood continued to spill from my mouth, staining Michael’s hands. He recoiled in
shock.
Panicked, he cupped my face and asked: “Olivia, what happened to your tongue?”
Unable to respond, I could only look at him. Amelia, seemingly casual, remarked: “She was being stubborn, so I had someone cut out her tongue.”
“Michael, you’re not going to blame me, are you?”
Michael’s eves turned dark with anger. He slowly
and menacing.
