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chapter 9

ALTHEA sat at the dinner table, dumbfounded. Only the sound of cutlery engulfed the four corners of the room.

She was unaware that things would turn out like this within just a few minutes of her stepping into his house.

"Amor." In each call the man made to her, it felt as though he purposely sealed her fate in this house.

She lifted her head, their eyes meeting in between, and saw that evil grin flashing through the same stoic face that looked at her earlier.

He was a cruel man.

"Why aren't you eating much? Do you want a different course of dish?" the man asked her one after the other, but she remained silent.

"Or do you want me to chop off the hands of the chef for preparing the food that didn't suit your taste?"

"You're sick," Althea finally said. She was doing her best to keep her work to herself, knowing full well that without a sharp tongue, she'd be better off without one.

The man let out a chuckle. "And what makes you think I'm not?" Israel retorted.

Althea knitted her forehe
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