Annabel passed Lillian’s room, hearing screams like a pig being slaughtered. She smirked coldly, her lips curling.
Her mind was ice–Lillian, this is just the start. Compared to what you did to me last life, this is nothing.
She knew Victor would come for her, all for Beatrice and Lillian.
Sure enough, that evening, Victor knocked on Annabel’s door.
Annabel was sprawled on her bed, fingers flying over her phone, lost in a mobile game.
“Annabel, still up?” Victor asked, his voice oddly warm, a rare smile on his face as he stood in the doorway.
Lillian trailed behind, her face bandaged, no makeup, looking pale.
Annabel didn’t look up, just hummed faintly, eyes locked on her game.
Victor’s face tightened, anger rising, but he remembered Walter’s words.
He forced a grin. “Annabel, I cut Lillian’s allowance in half this month and told her to apologize to you!”
Before Annabel could answer, Victor pulled Lillian forward. “Lillian, apologize to Annabel. You’re family, no need for big fights!”
Lillian’s lips were pale, her face weak–not her usual polished self.
She held out a glass of milk to Annabel. “Annabel, I’m sorry–I was too impulsive today. Please forgive me.”
Annabel paused her game, glancing up. Lillian flattered a flattering smile, saying, “Milk at night helps you sleep!”
Annabel took the milk, twirling the cup, eyeing the liquid. She pushed it back. “No thanks–I’d rather not get diarrhea.”
Lillian’s mouth dropped, tears welling. “Annabel, I’m here to apologize. You really think I‘ d poisoned the milk?”
Victor frowned, annoyed. “I watched Lillian warm that milk, Annabel–don’t be stupid!”
Annabel laughed sharply. “I’m lactose intolerant–milk gives me the runs. Can’t handle this gesture.”
“But if you drink it, Lillian, I’ll accept your apology,” she said, handing the glass back.
Lillian’s face went white–she’d slipped laxatives in the milk.
Annabel raised a brow. “What? Don’t want my forgiveness?”
“Or… did you really put something in it?” she asked, her eyes glinting cold.
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“Lillian?” Victor pressed, his tone sharp, clueless about her trick.
Under their stares, Lillian bit her lip, grabbed the milk, and chugged it, cursing Annabel in her head.
Annabel went back to her game, fingers tapping the screen.
The drug hit fast. Lillian’s face twitched as she said, “Dad, since Annabel forgives me, I‘ Il head to my room!”
Before Victor responded, Lillian bolted for the door.
Moments later, a scream rang out. “Ah!”
A foul stench filled the room.
Annabel wrinkled her nose, giving Victor a knowing look.
Victor froze, then faked anger. “Which maid made this mess?”
Annabel smirked coldly, watching him dodge. He turned and left without another word. Her eyes grew colder.
In the hallway, Lillian, dodging a maid with hot water, stumbled and fell. The water splashed over her.
The maid panicked. “Miss, I didn’t mean to!”
She stopped, seeing a yellow–brown stain spreading under Lillian.
Steam carried the sickening smell across the second floor.
The maid recoiled, gagging.
Lillian’s dazed mind cleared. She glared at the maid, venom in her eyes. “You…”
“Lillian, you okay?” Victor called, stepping out.
Lillian scrambled up to hide, but Victor saw the mess on her skirt.
“Lillian,” Victor gagged, shocked and grossed out. “What happened?”
Lillian looked around–everyone stared, trying not to puke. She burst into tears, head down, and ran to her room.
Victor, stomach churning, stepped over the yellow mess and knocked on her door.” Lillian, are you okay? I’ll get a doctor!”
Only Lillian’s broken sobs came through the door.
Annabel, heading downstairs for water, saw the scene and snorted, turning away.
Back in her room, she grabbed her phone and jumped into her game.
A private message popped up from SirDoesNotCare. [PeaceNotPaws, one–on–one- whoever loses calls the winner daddy. Scared?]
Annabel’s lips curved into a light smile. She could use a “son” to entertain herself right
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now.
In Magnolia Heights, a fancy villa district, Leonard Jensen ran toward a sharp–looking.
man.
The guy was in gold–rimmed glasses, focused on a contract.
“Jonathan, help me!” Leonard blurted, practically jumping. “The top player just logged on and agreed to a PK, but you always carry me. I can’t beat that monster!”
Jonathan Turner didn’t look up, his voice cold, “Get lost!”
Leonard fake–cried, clutching his phone. “Jonathan, I bragged in the group chat! I can’t lose to a girl!”
He shoved the screen in Jonathan’s face. “Look, if I lose, I got to call this hottie ‘Daddy“!” Jonathan glanced up. The girl on the screen smiled brightly, a small dimple on her pale, pretty face.
The face looked familiar. It was the woman who offered him two million for the night.
“Give me the phone,” Jonathan said, grabbing it.
He logged into the game and typed, [Come on!]
PeaceNotPaws: [Alright!]
The match started.
Jonathan rarely played, but his fingers flew across the screen, easily cornering his
opponent.
He grinned smugly. “Heh, we’re beating her! Getting called ‘Daddy‘ by her? I can’t even. imagine!”
Jonathan’s hand paused. He frowned, messing up a big move. PeaceNotPaws hit back, landing a killer blow.
“Game Over!” a robotic voice came along.
Leonard blinked in shock. “… Huh?”
Jonathan tossed the phone back, a faint smirk on his lips. “Keep your word. Call her Daddy!”
“No way! You threw the match because she’s hot!” Leonard accused, pointing wildly.
Jonathan raised a brow. “Oh yeah?”
Leonard shrank, muttering, “Never mind…” He couldn’t mess with Jonathan–too scary.
But him, the Jensen family’s big shot, calling someone “Daddy“? Lose all his cred? No
way.
Gritting his teeth, Leonard messaged a contact to hack PeaceNotPaws‘ account.
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Ten minutes later, his phone rang–the international hacker he’d paid big for was losing
- it.
“Dude, you screwed me! You sent me after a god–tier player! My IP’s exposed, my computers crashed–what do I do now?” the hacker yelled, cursing, his usual calm.
gone.
At the same time, Leonard’s gaming group chat exploded, pinging him to log on.
He opened the game, looked at the screen, and slumped in his chair, eyes blank, spirit. crushed.
Jonathan peeked over. Leonard’s game ID glowed in shame.
PeaceNotPawslsMyDaddy.
Jonathan chuckled low, “That girl… she’s got some guts.”
