"Enough!" he roared.
But instead of the loud bang he expected, what followed was a painful thud.
The table looked wooden on the surface, but inside it was made of solid gold. Mr. Long's hand smashed against it, and instantly, pain shot through his bones. His face turned pale, and his lips trembled.
The subordinates all winced, as if they had been the ones who felt the pain. They could almost hear the crack in their master's bones.
"Master…" one of them muttered, but quickly shut his mouth.
None of them dared to laugh. None of them dared to move.
Jasmine, however, let out a soft chuckle. She leaned against her chair, crossing her arms, her eyes shining with amusement.
"Father," she said mockingly, "be careful. You are not young anymore. Breaking your own hand just to scare me… is that worth it?"
Her words stabbed deeper than knives.
