Arianne didn’t respond and simply tightened her grip on the towel around her. She shut her eyes, refusing to look at him. Perhaps she wouldn’t feel so afraid if she avoided looking at him...
Mark’s gaze landed on the scar on her shoulder. She was left with this scar because of him... But now, he saw it as a mockery. “You disgust me!”
Mark left and didn’t do anything else to her. This was different from his usual way of dealing with things.
The bedroom door slammed shut. Arianne sat stiffly on the bedside like a soulless puppet.
She stayed up the entire night, and no one called her to collect a dead-drunk Mark Tremont. He wouldn’t turn into a completely different person in his drunken state and paw at her neck like a cat, either.
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