"What evidence do you have!"
Hearing the sarcasm in Cynthia's words, Stacy instantly became furious. She raised her hand and fiercely slapped toward Cynthia's face, "Cynthia!"
The palm cut through the air, carrying a sharp gust, heading straight for Cynthia's face. The onlookers involuntarily gasped at the audacity – applauding Stacy for daring to reprimand Cynthia in front of Mr. Ford – or quietly lighting a mental incense for Stacy.
The next moment, Cynthia firmly seized Stacy's wrist without blinking an eye. Her grip tightened gradually, causing Stacy's brows to furrow, and her face turned pale. Stacy struggled hard, but to no avail.
"Cynthia, let go of me!" Stacy's voice trembled uncontrollably.
If this continued, she felt Cynthia might break her wrist. Cynthia seemed oblivious to her pleas, and the pressure on Stacy's wrist increased bit by bit. Stacy was in pain, unable to articulate words, only instinctively struggling.