Little Ann's cheeks were covered with red marks. Enduring the excruciating pain, she tussled with her, "Look at Miss Cherline Lindsey during dinner—so quiet, not saying a word. And yet you? All you do is kiss up to the master and madam."
"How dare you insult me?! Say that again, if you dare!"
Laura Waltson's hands suddenly clamped down on Little Ann's neck, gripping tightly without letting go.
A muffled, gasping sound emerged from Little Ann's throat, like bubbling air trapped under water.
Thud, thud, thud…
Her face began to turn deathly pale due to the lack of oxygen. Her feet fluttered helplessly against the floor, both hands desperately trying to pry Laura's grip open, but there was no strength left in her.
Laura looked at her dying struggle with arrogant satisfaction, sneering coldly, "You filthy bitch! Insult me, huh? Why can't you insult me now?!"
As she spoke, she summoned all her strength, tightening her grip mercilessly around Little Ann's neck.
