COPYRIGHT © 2017 Miu
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, mechanical, electronical, photocopying, recording or otherwise without the prior written permission of the Author.
This novel is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and events are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
All pictures and multimedia used are not the author’s work and doesn’t claim any legal rights.
MATURE CONTENT and VULGAR words not suited for young readers below eighteen (18) years old.
“Did you see that?! Young miss doesn’t even need our help! She can totally protect herself!”
“Heh! I’m afraid it is our young master who’ll need protection from her.”
“Ladies, focus,” said a high pitch no-nonsense female voice. “Thirteen, have you gotten the names of those two boys yet?”
“Edward Walsh and Reynold Barks.”
A ghostly pale, stunning woman with long silver hair snorted. The dead air revolving around her told everyone that she was the leader of the pack.
And ‘coincidentally,’ she was also the Russian professor at Artem University.
“Just a puny family dared to act so arrogant in front of young miss?”
“Should we inform young master?”
The pale woman focused her attention outside her private office. Her eyes narrowed, pupils constricting, locking at the skinny and fat boy.
“No need. Those two are not even worth a second of young master’s time.”
“What should we do then? Young master said to torture anyone who dares to harm young miss.”
A wicked, seductive smile that sent a feeling of impending calamity coated the pale woman’s face.
“Hmm . . . The purple room appears to be empty nowadays . . .”
The women exchanged glances. All of them were seasoned assassins and skilled in the arts of torture, individually handpicked by Master Russell himself. However, they still shivered at the pale, woman’s methods of administering pain.
She is indeed the head of the pack!
“They want some excitement? Let’s give it to them.”
“Hey! Are you alright?!”
I snapped my fingers in front of Zoe’s daydreaming face.
“H-huh . . . W-what?” Zoe blinked a few times before her eyes regained its clarity.
“What’s wrong with you?! I said, “Did something happened with your dinner with your stepmom? You were absent yesterday. I called you, but you didn’t answer.”
Zoe’s expression flickered with killing intent at the mention of her stepmother. Her face then puffed red within seconds, changing into one of a love-struck fool as if she remembered something.
My browse crumpled. This is serious! Something must have happened!
Zoe cleared her throat and avoided my questioning gaze. “N-nothing . . . happened . . . ,” she said with a face full of guilt. She then shook her head and returned my scrutinizing stare. “Don’t worry about me. Let’s worry about you.”
“What do you mean?” I pretended.
“Don’t act like you don’t know. There are rumors about you circulating at the start of the school. But it escalates the moment that jerk face-asshole-Rowan approached you. Is he still targeting you?”
“Yes.” I shrugged, not a care that Rowan’s been taking every opportunity to get closer to me ever since Estela’s absence.
Zoe punched her fist against her palm, ready to wage war. “That asshole and those bitches. I’m sure they’re behind all of this!”
She pointed her finger at me. “And you! I can’t believe you’re so nonchalant about all of this! They’re slandering your name, you know!”
I restrained my eye roll. “No need to concern about those rumors. It’ll just stress you out.”
Zoe exhaled an exhilarating sigh while tilting her head. “I’m so jealous that you can be so unaffected with all of this.”
I’d lie if I said I wasn’t. But my extreme laziness and ‘don’t give a fuck’ attitude dominated.
I learned through experience that if you want to live a happy-lazy-stress free-carefree life, you’d just have to roll with all the shit everyone throws at you.
It’s just rumors. It’ll die down.
I just hope those spreading the rumors would not cross the final line. Even my ‘no care’ attitude has its limits.
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