Dilbert Walker watched silently, though his heart ached—for Yolanda Bardot, for how she degraded herself, especially with her wounds still unhealed.
But he dared not make any move.
Because the bitter fruit she brewed, she must taste on her own. No one could help her...
And yet.
The seemingly earnest kneeling and bowing did not move Arthur Lindsey or his daughter.
Their expressions were identical in their cold indifference.
"Leave."
Arthur Lindsey seemed to have completely run out of patience.
Just one word.
Cold.
Harsh.
It burst into the air, drilling mercilessly into everyone's eardrums like an iron fist.
Roaring like the tide!
It was like a final divine decree!
Yolanda Bardot stifled her cries in fear, yet she continued to knock her forehead against the floor, the sound echoing with her urgent desperation and remorse.
But in Cherline Lindsey's eyes, it was merely a performance.
