"Why are you sleeping together!?" The voice rang out—cold, haughty, dripping with authority and elegance. It was the kind of voice that demanded obedience before the words even left her lips, leaving no room for defiance.
The cold and beautiful lady standing with a cigar pipe questioned the two, specifically Cassandra Bolton. Anyone could notice the suppressed rage and hatred in her tone. Her beautiful yet sharp eyes looked piercingly at the young girl on the bed, with deep hatred and disgust, and murderous intent.
Looking at the beautiful young girl, with dark long hair cascading like an ominous waterfall, wearing a men's shirt, all disheveled and one of her fair and tender shoulders revealed, Karmilla Visent Bolton couldn't hold back her rage and quickly threw a slap at the drowsy and dark-faced Cassandra Bolton.
Phak!
A loud and resounding slap was heard across the silent room. The maids and the old butler, and the attendants present were all trembling in fear. They had never seen First Madame so angry and infuriated in the past, despite her coldness and neglect towards her only daughter.
Cassandra Bolton was shocked at the sudden slap. Although this mother of hers doesn't seem to like her, and has neglected her in the past, inflicting all sorts of punishment on her with different excuses all the time, First Madame had never been this angry.
"Outrageous! You SHAMELESS SLUT! Are you trying to seduce my son?!" Karmilla Visent Bolton roared with hatred. Her gaze on Cassandra Bolton was like those of a venomous snake, ready to tear her into pieces. The cold, elegant, and sophisticated First Madame who was feared by all in House Bolton was now like a different person. Her usual calmness was nowhere to be found. Her beautiful face was twisted into an ugly expression.
She lifted her arm again, ready to slap Cassandra a second time—when a firm hand closed around her wrist.
"Mother."
Theodore Bolton's voice was low, neither raised nor sharp, but the weight of it stilled the room. His expression was unreadable, his cold gaze sliding from his mother to the trembling girl on the bed. No outrage. No defense. Just indifference—like a man cutting short a scene that had gone on too long.
Karmilla Visent Bolton stiffened. Her son's fingers pressed into her wrist with a strength that wasn't violent, but unyielding. She lifted her eyes to his, intending to scold him—but faltered.
Because in those eyes, sharp and glacial, was a warning. Subtle. Silent. Deadly. Don't say more. Not here. Not before her.
The message passed in a heartbeat, one she understood all too well. Karmilla Visent Bolton's rage flickered with something darker—hesitation, calculation.
Meanwhile, Cassandra Bolton—who was awoken from her deep slumber, slapped for no reason, and called a shameless slut by her own mother—now had a dark face, her usually timid eyes cold and fierce like a brewing storm. If her master and her seniors saw her, they would all know that all hell was bound to break loose.
"Heh. What did I do for First Madame to slap me?" Cassandra Bolton looked like a small girl, but the chilling aura and the cold smile on her face were not suitable for a seventeen-year-old.
Her tender cheeks quickly turned red and swelled up from the slap, making her look pitiful like a bullied child. Indeed, she was bullied.
Hearing her cold and arrogant question, with her evil smile which appeared smug, Karmilla Visent Bolton wanted to tear the daughter standing in front of her into a thousand pieces. Did she think by sleeping with her powerful son, the bitch got the courage to question her? How dare she try to even seduce her older brother!?
But beneath her fury, there was something else in Karmilla Visent Bolton's eyes—something she quickly veiled. Fear? Resentment? Or the weight of a secret best left unspoken?
Theodore Bolton released her wrist slowly, his face impassive. He gave no rebuke for the slap, no glance toward Cassandra. To him, it seemed, the matter was trivial. But the way his gaze lingered on his mother for a fraction too long, the flicker of cold steel behind his indifference—it was a warning sharper than words.
"…" Karmilla Visent Bolton opened her mouth, then closed it. Her teeth ground together as she swallowed back whatever threatened to spill.