[4]

The girl gazed at the body clad only in thin sleepwear. Damn it, there was only this clothing on the bed. She tried to open the large wardrobe in the corner of the room, hoping to find something more decent to wear, but it was empty. Her efforts were in vain. The wardrobe was tightly locked.

She growled in frustration and threw the body onto the sofa.

Beatrice still had a wary feeling about the food being served, although she admitted honestly that she was hungry. Since one o'clock in the afternoon, she hadn't had a single grain of rice or even a sip of water to moisten her throat. Her stomach was rumbling. It seemed that the worms she kept inside couldn't hold their hunger any longer. But... Beatrice was afraid.

What if this food was poisoned? What if it was laced with strange drugs?

The girl was not ignorant about the drugs that could be mixed in and cause her trouble. Oh God! What should she do? She needed to eat, but her worries were overwhelming. If she held off her hunger until tomorrow morning, the possibility of fainting was high, right?

However, her eyes couldn't be torn away from the dish on the table. Even though she had taken a considerable distance, her treacherous feet always led her to the table. It was as if the dish was calling her, full of temptation.

"Enough. If I die today, so be it. It means my fate can finally breathe freely only up to this point." Beatrice quickly sat down in front of the table, where a serving of rice with savory broth and tantalizing sambal was available.

She ate hungrily. Beatrice's smile widened. She devoured everything on the table. She even felt like biting the plate stained with sauce because her stomach wasn't completely full yet. She leaned back gently against the back of the sofa, momentarily stopping her activity of licking her hands, which were still smeared with the creamy chicken sauce.

"Praise the Lord, I can still eat. May God always bestow His mercy upon me," she whispered softly.

She immediately tidied up this glass-topped table. She stacked all the used plates in the corner of the table, washed her hands until they were clean, and then sat back on the sofa without knowing what she would do. Her eyes wandered slowly, observing the luxurious interior of the room. She just realized that there was also a quite large TV attached to the wall in this room.

All the arrangements in this room were neat and well-kept. She certainly didn't expect that this room belonged to... Sam. Thinking of the tattooed man, Beatrice unconsciously touched her chest.

"Ouch!" she exclaimed in sudden pain. Even though it was covered with a plaster, she could still feel the pain from accidentally bumping it. Suddenly, memories of Sam's treatment towards her resurfaced, causing goosebumps to rise on her skin.

"Crazy thug!" she cursed. "Don't expect that your actions earlier will break me. It won't! Unless I'm set free! It's ridiculous that I have to bear Father's mistakes. Am I a money vault?"

Beatrice became fiery once again.

"Besides, this scar won't just disappear, right?" Beatrice grumbled in frustration. "What about my future husband? Is he supposed to... Oh my God! Sam, you jerk!"

Tonight, with her energy replenished, Beatrice spent it by relentlessly berating Sam. She didn't care if he suddenly entered the room. In fact, it would be even better. Beatrice didn't just scold everything in Sam's room; she did it right in front of his face. All kinds of crude insults and animalistic slurs effortlessly rolled off Beatrice's lips.

Unfortunately... Sam was not there.

But Beatrice was determined that when he returned, she would unleash her barrage of insults once again. Definitely.

Unbeknownst to Beatrice, she fell asleep on Sam's plush bed. Exhausted from releasing all the emotions that had been pent up in her heart. Before she completely drifted off, she had one request. God, please return her to the small but comfortable rented house she used to live in.

Unfortunately, that wish was not granted.

The sunlight streaming through the bedroom window made Beatrice pull the blanket over her. She squinted unhappily because the light was bothersome to her. Besides, her body was still too tired to wake up. She still wanted to be swayed in a dream world far more beautiful than the reality she experienced.

"Wake up, Bitch!!!"

Beatrice's eyes opened wide, coinciding with the pain that struck her head. A strong tug was enough for her to feel her hair being pulled from the roots. Beatrice's screams went unnoticed, only fueling the excitement of the person pulling her hair.

No.

They weren't excited because they found a new victim to vent their frustration. It wasn't just frustration; it was anger. Jealousy. Unacceptance. And a feeling that Beatrice was their toughest competitor. Since their first encounter yesterday, their intuition told them that the girl whose hair they were pulling was not someone easily subdued.

Throughout the night, they couldn't sleep. Despite their tired eyes, they forced them to stay open, hoping that the man they were waiting for would enter their room. To make love until the early morning.

Unfortunately, it didn't happen. They thought Sam had other business. After learning from one of the guards that Sam had brought a woman to his main room, they became furious.

Throughout their life with Sam, AnaBella Daniela Jovanka had only slept in this supposedly luxurious room once. That was when Sam was heavily intoxicated. After that, it was Sam who visited the women he desired. Although most of his visits were to Bella.

But now, what did they find?

They discovered a girl who they had placed in the room, peacefully asleep on Sam's bed. Not to mention her appearance that fueled Bella's jealousy even more: sleepwear that barely covered Beatrice's thighs, messy hair, and Bella was sure that the girl wasn't wearing a bra or underwear beneath her clothes.

"Let go!" Beatrice exclaimed loudly because the pulling didn't loosen at all. She was released, but Beatrice fell to the floor, her forehead hitting the edge of the table. Dizziness immediately struck her. The pain she felt made her whimper. Darkness began to encroach, but Beatrice couldn't collapse now.

She gripped the edge of the table tightly. One of her hands touched the area on her forehead that had hit the table. She felt something oozing around her temple. And indeed, there was a potentially wide wound there. Blood began to soak her palm.

"You disrespectful bitch!" Beatrice couldn't accept it. Despite the lingering dizziness, she tried to get up.

"Oh! You dare to mess with me?!" Bella clenched her fists, glaring at Beatrice with sharp, disdainful eyes full of hatred.

"Why should I be afraid?" Beatrice didn't flinch at all. She was actually waiting for this annoying woman who disturbed her sleep to come closer.

"You damn slut!!!" Bella swiftly threw a powerful slap that landed on Beatrice's cheek. However, Beatrice promptly grabbed Bella's hand, tightly restraining it while the woman stared at her with intense hatred.

"Don't think you can slap me, you cheap woman!"

Bella's eyes widened in disbelief. What did she just say? Cheap?

"You!" Bella quickly released Beatrice's grip, trying to pull or hit the girl again. Unfortunately, Beatrice didn't stay idle either. Regardless of the pain that still lingered throughout her body, especially her forehead, she fought back against Bella.

They wrestled with each other, pulling each other's hair and cursing fiercely. They used their hands and feet to attack each other. Whenever there was an opportunity to grab Bella's clothing, Beatrice did so without hesitation, tearing the tight shirt Bella was wearing on the side.

Similarly, Bella also targeted Beatrice's sleepwear. The corner of Beatrice's lip bled from Bella's slap, while Bella's eye showed a bruise from Beatrice's punch.

Both Beatrice and Bella were panting, gasping for breath due to their actions, but neither of them wanted to give in. Beatrice even disregarded the bandage covering her wound on her chest.

Their clothing no longer properly covered their bodies. Beatrice quickly scanned her surroundings. What else could she give to Bella, who looked beaten and bruised by her? If they were to look in the mirror, Beatrice was sure they would appear similar; with many wounds and bruises.

The closest object to her was a plate that had been on the corner of the table since last night. Without hesitation, she grabbed it and threw it at Bella, who was also preparing to throw a nearby ornament.

They continued to wrestle, neither of them willing to back down. Beatrice, fueled by her frustration towards Sam, finally found the perfect outlet. Meanwhile, Bella, consumed by jealousy, didn't run out of energy to vent her emotions.

Until...

"How long are you going to destroy my room?!"

***

Beatrice winced as the cotton ball, soaked in antiseptic, nearly touched the corner of her lip.

"Miss," said the weary servant who had been instructed to treat Beatrice. Since her master gave the order, the girl refused to cooperate.

It was unclear how many times she had rejected treatment. She also had plenty of work to do in the kitchen, but because this was a direct order, she couldn't dare to object, and there had to be results. Although the most noticeable was the well-bandaged forehead, there were still other wounds, especially the injured corner of her lip.

"Miss, please don't make it difficult for me," she said, once again offering the cotton ball.

"I can do it myself." Beatrice snatched the cotton ball along with the mirror that was lying on the table. "You can go back. I'm fine."

"Miss, you're not fine. It's a problem for me if everything isn't treated."

"Isn't it too troublesome?" Beatrice scowled.

"Can't you stop being stubborn? You're lucky you're being treated instead of being sent to the room downstairs as punishment for daring to touch Bella."

Beatrice looked up. Before her stood the man who had stared at her with eagle-like intensity, with an air of arrogance. Sam's sudden arrival also caused the servant to immediately step aside.

"Just put me in there. I don't care," Beatrice retorted, crossing her arms.

Sam sighed. Did the girl think he couldn't put her in there? She occasionally needed to understand the meaning of punishment. "Is that what you want?"

Beatrice still didn't avert her gaze. She felt it was necessary to challenge Sam's eyes. Even as he closed the distance between them, Beatrice still refused to shift her gaze. She hadn't forgotten how Sam mercilessly marked her chest. She still hadn't forgotten.

When Sam's hand once again gripped her face tightly, Beatrice still didn't want to end her defiance. Although her neck began to ache as Sam purposely made her look up to maintain eye contact, Beatrice wouldn't utter a single complaint.

"I like brave girls. Those who don't avert their gaze unless it's toward me. Just as I want," Sam smirked. "But there's one thing you need to know." This time, he slightly lowered his head to whisper as softly as possible. "You're making me even more impatient to bed you."

"Seems like that damn thug only has genitals in his brain," Beatrice said without hesitation.

Although her voice wasn't very clear, she knew that her recent remark had provoked the anger of Noah Samuel.

"So, you're challenging me, huh? I was waiting for your chest to heal, but because you underestimate me like this, don't blame me if I get rough."

Beatrice wasn't given a moment to catch her breath, as Sam greedily brushed his lips against her injured mouth. Beatrice's mind suddenly focused on Sam's previous statement. Rough.

What did he mean by that?