Chapter 49 Only I Can Bully You!
But strangely, she felt no pain, as if a protective shield enveloped her.
Harper instinctively looked up.
It was Francis who had thrown himself over her, shielding her from the blow!
Careful not to crush her, he supported himself on his elbows, which were now grazed and bleeding.
Then he stood up, a terrifying fury sparking in his dark, eagle-like eyes.
Thump—!
The housemaid wielding the stick was swiftly kicked away.
The other two met the same fate, one kick each!
"Ah... Ahh..."
For a moment, the trio's screams echoed in agony.
The shrill cries held everyone breathless, no one daring to utter a sound.
The next second.
Francis pulled Harper up, tore the rag from her mouth, and, without another word, pulled her close into his embrace.
His tongue grazed his cheek as he ignored the slight pain in the back of his head and looked down at her mockingly, "You only play tough in front of me, don't you?"
'Punch, kick, bite. Things no one dares do to me in my entire life, she did them without hesitation.’
'Against others, she seems as passive as a ripened persimmon.’
'She must be so certain that I won't retaliate against her.'
Hearing his mockery, something in Harper snapped, and she let out a small sob.
God knows she'd been in utter despair, fearing their baby would be harmed.
She thought no one would come to her rescue.
Yet, the person who did was him.
‘Why him? Why did it have to be him?’
She had resolved not to let him stir her emotions again.
But just moments ago, she couldn't help it.
He had protected her and their unborn child.
Seeing Harper's tear-streaked face, Francis felt a pang in his heart. He loosened his embrace, his eyes searching hers, his voice tinged with urgency
"Are you hurt anywhere?"
At that moment, Harper's mind was blank, her emotions uncontrollable, crying until she shook her head.
Seeing her weep so violently, Francis's gaze intensified, "Where does it hurt?"
Harper felt no pain, and yet, everything ached especially her heart.
The grievances she had been harboring seemed to burst forth now that her life had been on the line.
He had doubted her, slandered her, labeled her, and yet, he was her savior in her darkest moment.
"Why did you come..." she sobbed.
Francis squinted, wanting to ask why it couldn't be him.
'Who was she waiting for, that Senior guy?'
But seeing her tear-wrinkled little face, he held back, wrapping his arms around her even tighter.
He furrowed his brow, voice tinged with cool authority, "I'm the only one allowed to bully you!"
Although the words were spoken with a harsh tone, Harper felt inexplicably comforting at that moment.
Tears flowed harder from Harper as she threw herself into the arms of the man before her, gripping his waist tightly.
It was her instinctual reaction when feeling wronged, craving comfort.
That embrace sent a jolt through the man's detached heart.
The squabbles and suspicions of recent days seemed to dissolve within the warmth of that hug.
Francis allowed her to cling on, a thought forming in his mind. 'As long as she is content to stay by his side, maybe I can let bygones be bygones and not fret about who she has fancied in the past.'
It was then that Amelia, oblivious to the moment, spoke up. "Francis, how can you not see that this—"
A sharp glance cut her off, and sheepishly, she corrected herself, "Harper broke Grandma's beloved vase, and at the party, she... fooled around with someone. Her dress is torn. It's utterly shameful!"
Harper, still nestled in Francis's embrace, had started to recover somewhat and would stand for none of these accusations.
Pointing to a housemaid on the floor, she defended, "She tripped me and caused my fall..."
Before she could finish, her chin was abruptly redirected.
Francis's gaze fell upon her. On her delicate face was a bruise darkening her forehead and a handprint stark against her skin. His pupils sharply dilated as he asked in a cold, menacing tone, "Who did this?"
Caught off guard by the question, Harper met his gaze, thinking she saw a trace of anguish in his eyes—an illusion, surely, given her tendency toward anemia.
Without a thought for anything else, she pointed unequivocally at Amelia.
A chill went through Amelia as Francis's eyes swept over to her, making her shudder involuntarily.
She hurriedly explained, "Francis, she was disrespectful and shameful. I was just... disciplining her on your behalf."
Finishing her plea, she edged closer to the reassuring presence of Whitney.
"Is that so?" Francis replied nonchalantly, his eyes enigmatic, "In that case, should I be thanking you for disciplining my wife?"
Amelia's tensed heart eased. 'I'm right. Francis won't take this cheap girl's side over mine, especially not with Grandma backing me.'
Francis's lips curved into a sinister smile as he said, "All right then, let's handle this one by one."
Before Amelia could grasp what he meant, Francis glanced at the old servants on the floor, ordering coldly, "Break both their hands."
His voice was eerily calm, sending tingles down the spines of those who heard.
The bodyguard, lurking just outside, overheard and instantly moved in, grabbing the hands of the housemaids and forcefully bending them.
A series of crisp 'crack' sounds echoed, reminiscent of snapping twigs, swift and decisive.
The room was filled with the ear-piercing screams of the old servants. Their tactics of the bodyguard were ruthless and swift, so much so that even Harper had to look away.
But there was no pity in her heart for them. These wily old-timers looked like they had been scheming for years, likely complicit in countless cruelties with Whitney. They had it coming.
Whitney's complexion turned a sickly green as she slapped the table furiously, “You—!” Words failed her, and she began to cough violently.
The bodyguards had already dragged the wheezing old servants out of the room.
Francis was utterly indifferent to Whitney's outrage. His penetrating gaze fell upon Amelia with a coldness that seemed to plunge the temperature of the room to sub-zero levels.
With just one look, Amelia realized the true meaning behind his words—one by one. She was next!
'Insane. The man is a lunatic,' she thought.
Panicked, she clung to her grandmother, sure Francis wouldn't dare touch her with her there. No one would disrespect their grandmother like that, not without causing a scandal.
Whitney's cough subsided, her face shifting from green to a shade of ugly black. She thought, 'I'm still there, and he has beaten my servants without a second thought. Now, he even dares to move against my granddaughter.’
'His arrogance is beyond belief!'
She spoke sternly, “Francis, she is your cousin!”
“That I know,” Francis did not deny Whitney's words.
Whitney felt a moment of relief and was about to press on with her grievances when she observed Francis's dark eyes.
His voice was cool and detached. “So, would you prefer to have your hands disabled or to slap yourself?” His questions hinted at a twisted form of mercy, offering Amelia a choice.
Otherwise, she would end up just like those old servants.
Amelia was terrified, clutching her grandmother's arm tightly and pleading with a tearful voice, “Grandma, save me!”
Whitney was so infuriated by his arrogance that she almost passed out. In a fit of rage, she threw her teacup at him, “You unfilial beast! Do you have no respect for your elders?”
Log in with Google Account
Chapters
Favorite
Settings
