Ruthless men

Lisbeth Dawson's embrace, as gentle and sudden as the warmth of the spring sun, caused Percy Spencer's heart to flutter and a flash of dismay to cross his face.

But then, like a breeze, reason reminded him that this was just a dream, why should he worry too much?

Thus, the corners of his mouth curled into a relieved smile.

He slowly, meticulously scrutinized her quiet face.

It was like an antique collector appreciating a rare treasure that had traveled through time and space.

Every inch of skin, every brow and eye was worth savoring, and the treasure and reluctance in his heart was self-evident.

"Helen, I ... miss you, really, so much!"

Percy Spencer's voice trembled slightly, and his eyes shone with excitement, as if he wanted to pour out all the thoughts that had accumulated over the past few days to her.

Even in this unreal world.

It was as if time had frozen, in this instant, the two hearts crossed countless barriers and clung to each other, transmitting wordless warmth and comfort to each other, as if the entire world had stood still for it.

After a long time, the night became deeper and deeper, everything around them sank into a quiet, only the occasional night birds chirping outside the window broke the silence.

Percy Spencer's gaze still rested tenderly on Lisbeth Dawson's forehead.

That glossy jade-like skin was even more pure and flawless in the faint candlelight.

His eyes were filled with love and care, but for fear of disturbing this hard-won peace, he restrained all impulses to get closer.

He did not realize that a pair of eyes outside the door.

Is through the doorway, tightly staring at the house of every subtle movement.

In that gaze, there was a mixture of seven points of hot anger and three points of bitterness at being betrayed.

Like the cold ice in winter, it signaled the coming storm.

As the night deepened, Percy Spencer gently embraced Lisbeth Dawson, her breathing even and soft, like the most melodious lullaby.

He murmured softly, "Helen, good night."

The tone was so gentle it could melt the hardest ice.

And Lisbeth Dawson, who seemed to sense his care even in her dreams, hugged him back in a daze and murmured in response, "Good night Percy."

It was at this moment that the dark figure outside the door finally pressed on, using the long wait to find the perfect moment to silently push the door open and step into the room with heavy steps.

The man moved roughly, but with an irresistible force, easily taking the sleeping Lisbeth Dawson away from Percy Spencer.

Percy Spencer, on the other hand, was still in a deep sleep as the ecstasy that had been pre-ignited in the room took effect.

...

A piercing chill was felt as if from the abyss.

Lisbeth Dawson jolted.

It was like struggling out of an endless darkness as consciousness gradually returned to its place:

"Ummm...!"

She realized that her arms and legs were tightly bound by heavy chains, and every time she moved, there was the icy sound of metal rubbing against her skin.

A rough strip of cloth was attached to her lips, preventing any possibility of calling for help.

As her vision blurred, she saw a woman dressed in an elaborate maid's outfit standing aloof.

The familiar face was instantly recognizable to Lisbeth Dawson as that of Hannah Jones' beloved henchman.

"Heh! What a shamelessness, just stepping into the gate of the old mansion and you're thinking of seducing the young master!"

The maid Quan Shui's voice was full of contempt and disdain.

Her fingers gently picked up with disgust, "Remember, here, you have to abide by the rules. As a housekeeper, it was my negligence to fail to make you understand the points here. But don't worry, I'll teach you a good lesson now instead of the master! Someone come, slap your mouth to teach you a lesson!"

Accompanied by a continuous "slap slap slap" sound.

Slap after slap mercilessly landed on Lisbeth Dawson's delicate cheeks.

Her cheeks swelled rapidly, and the blood oozing from the corners of her mouth slowly soaked through the white gauze of the gag, tinting it a bleak shade of red.

Despite the excruciating pain, her eyes filled with tears.

But stubbornly refused to slide down easily, as if silently resisting this unjust fate.

And shortly after Lisbeth Dawson was forcibly taken away, Percy Spencer turned lazily from her slumber.

As the heir of a martial arts family, he was exceptionally sensitive to any small changes in his surroundings.Even the slightest sound could instantly pull him back from dreamland.

He blinked his eyes lightly a few times, and it was as if the images from his dream were still swirling around in his mind, each frame carrying the residual warmth of Lisbeth Dawson's scent.

Suddenly, a warm liquid slid slowly down the corners of his eyes

It was a mixture of tears of longing and pain, silently wetting the pillow.

With a dry mouth, Percy Spencer rolled over and turned on the bedside lamp, the soft light gradually dispersing the dark shadows in the room.

He walked briskly to the table and poured himself a glass of water in an attempt to quench his agitation and thirst.

When he stepped into the bedroom again, his eyes inadvertently swept over the bed that appeared to be exceptionally empty, he could not help but be stunned.

A trace of dissimilarity flashed across his originally bland and unperturbed face.

He then quickly shifted his gaze, but after that momentary hesitation, he realized with a jolt that -

The tiny folds and strands of hair left on the sheets clearly did not belong to him ...

Surprised, Percy Spencer's eyes snapped open.

The water droplets in his throat that he hadn't swallowed yet spewed out uncontrollably, splashing down on the floor and leaving a patchy trail.

It was like an externalization of the complex emotions in his heart.

Percy Spencer's footsteps were hurried, passing through the dim and long corridor, and finally stopped in front of the door of the monitoring room.

The door gently pushed open, and the dim light of the fluorescent screen in the room immediately reflected on his furrowed brow.

On the screen, the soft figure of Lisbeth Dawson was being roughly dragged towards the cold basement by several rude henchmen, and the scene in the screen made his heart jolt.

A wave of emotions tumbled over him.

That woman who disgusted him to the core.

Was actually alive.

And this cruel fact was now like a sharp dagger, plunging straight into his heart.

His pace became hurried and he rushed into the basement without thinking.

The sudden intrusion made everyone in the room froze, and the movements of their hands came to an abrupt halt.

The air seemed to freeze for a moment.

Percy Spencer's gaze was as sharp as a falcon's, sweeping over everyone's face.

It finally settled on Lisbeth Dawson, who was cowering on the ground, looking helpless.

His tone was cold and hard as he questioned, "What the hell are you guys doing here?"

As the words left his mouth, he subconsciously took a step forward.

The slender fingers spread slightly, as if trying to give the wretched woman a touch of comfort and pull her up from the mud.

However.

This warmth only existed for a moment, and reason quickly repelled the impulse.

His arms retracted steeply, pressing against his sides, a flash of complexity and self-deprecation in his eyes - why had he had such an ill-timed thought?

This was something that even he himself could not give an answer to.

Mary, who was standing on the side, was pale and a trace of panic flashed in her eyes.

Her thin voice trembled in the empty basement: ''Yes, it's me...'' Helping Madam to teach her unruly subordinate a lesson."

After speaking, she lowered her head, as if waiting for the upcoming order of chastisement or dismissal.

However.

Percy Spencer's reaction was out of everyone's expectation.

He just indifferently walked towards the sofa in the corner of the room and casually sat down, the corner of his mouth curling into a cold smile:

"Lesson? Go on then, I happen to have nothing better to do than watch your 'good show'."

Lisbeth Dawson lay on the cold ground, teeth clenched.

Tears had been swirling in her eyes for a long time.

Yet they never stubbornly slipped away.

Until Percy Spencer's indifferent words penetrated her eardrums like a bolt of lightning splitting her last line of defense, the tears could no longer be contained and dripped silently to the ground.

Her frail frame looked especially poignant with the tiny sobs that accompanied them.

Just a short while ago, they were in the room...

That cozy image was as distant as a dream.

Lisbeth Dawson's heart was filled with confusion and hurt; Percy's transformation had been so abrupt that she couldn't help but wonder if he, too, was like the thin-skinned men of the world, whose words were inscrutable and elusive?

After the punishment was over, Percy Spencer didn't stay long and took Lisbeth Dawson away from this gloomy place and sent her back to her Diamond Villa.

He did not take half a step into the threshold, but only indifferently pressed a hidden button, and the car door opened in response.Immediately afterward, he kicked her out without mercy, his words as cold as ice piercing his bones, "Get out of here, you filthy thing."

Percy Spencer drove away, leaving Lisbeth Dawson sitting alone on the cold floor, tears like broken beads, silently telling her despair and pain.

Recently, his treatment of her has become more and more manic and ruthless, and every injury seems to test the limits of what she can bear.

And behind this inexplicable tyranny.

What kind of entanglements and secrets are hidden.

But no one can know.