The moment Annabelle Linton finished speaking, a pair of cold, wet hands seized her neck.
Leona Grant's eyes were as cold and unnerving as a bottomless abyss. He narrowed them, his entire body radiating an undeniable aura of danger. "Annabelle Linton, you've got a death wish, don't you? How dare you plot against me!"
Annabelle Linton looked at him calmly, feeling his grip tighten bit by bit, yet showing not a shred of fear. "I didn't castrate you. You should be grateful I went easy on you, understand?
I told you before, you disgust me. You're the one who came asking for it!"
Leona Grant stared at Annabelle Linton with cold brutality, like an unhinged cheetah. "I thought you'd be terrified and begging for mercy by now. It seems you're far more arrogant and ignorant than I imagined!"
"Beg you? I'd kill you first!"
"Very good!"
Leona Grant tightened his grip, and the color drained from Annabelle Linton's face, inch by inch, as he slowly lifted her off the ground.
