From My Ex's Betrayal To His Father's Bed
Dangerous.
The servant left quickly, scurrying to carry out my command. I allowed myself a small, fleeting smile—cold, unreadable. Justice, in my world, was measured not in words, but in action. Anyone who dared cross the line would learn that swiftly, painfully.
I poured more alcohol into the basin, rubbing my hands with methodical precision. But even as the burn licked my skin, it could not wash away the tension coiling through my chest. I could feel it in my muscles, in my jaw, in the heavy weight behind my eyes.
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