"She belongs to Arnold Simmons." He spoke coldly, a gloomy and fierce air already coloring his brows and eyes.
Tiffany Lynch felt a shock in her heart, but most of the suffocation had eased. She continued cautiously, "Jimmy, do you really hate your uncle that much?"
Jimmy Simmons subconsciously clenched his knees, pain burrowing into his heart. The endless darkness outside the window blended into the coldness in his words, "He killed my parents."
Having said that, he turned his head, reached out his hand to lift Tiffany's slightly pale face, increasing the pressure of his fingertips, his eyes narrowed, threatening, "Tiffany, what exactly are you worried about?"
His voice was gentle, as though laced with endless tenderness, a deep and affectionate gaze perfected amidst a myriad of admirers, deceptively charming.
