"Of course, it's my house."
Crystal Sullivan wore a smug expression, disdainfully saying, "Don't believe me? Ask the uncle standing next to you."
Little Clarissa looked innocently at the kind-hearted uncle. Surely, he wouldn't lie to her, right?
The middle-aged man reluctantly nodded his head.
Facing Crystal Sullivan, he seemed at a loss for words.
"See? He already admitted it. It's my house!"
Crystal Sullivan took a few steps forward, pointing both fingers at Clarissa's stomach, and said with dark humor, "I want you to vomit up everything you just ate, right now!"
"Hehe... sorry, but I've already digested it all." Clarissa didn't succumb to Crystal's domineering attitude, responding cleverly.
"Then I guess I'll have to slit your stomach open!"
As she spoke, Crystal Sullivan pulled out a small blade from her pocket, clearly a pencil sharpener knife. She brandished its sharp edge, waving it at Clarissa's round belly, as if ready to stab at any moment.
