110. Dirty Slap

Chapter One Hundred And Ten

The father’s face twisted with fury. “What nonsense!” he roared, his voice booming across the marble room, filling it with venom. Before Henry could react, a sharp slap landed on his cheek, the force of it sending him reeling back a step.

Pain shot through his face, radiating from the stinging mark. He tasted blood on his lip but forced himself to stay steady, unwilling to let his fear show.

“My best art collector assured me this was the original!” the father spat, his eyes blazing with anger. He turned to Léa, disgust plain on his face. “Where did you find this dumb beggar?”

His voice was laced with contempt, his gaze bearing down on her.

Léa flinched, a flicker of fear crossing her face. She opened her mouth, but no words came. Instead, she lowered her head, her confidence stripped away under her father’s harsh gaze. He sneered, watching her silence with satisfaction.

“Kill him for wasting my time,” he ordered with cold finality, his hand dismissing Hen
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