FreeNovelArabella tilted her chin up at Horace with a look that said, "Relax, I've got this."
To the casual observer, she seemed to be signaling Horace not to rile up Martha. But Horace, who had spent enough twith
Arabella, instantly understood the meaning behind her gaze. He got the message loud and clear.
Chuckling under his breath, he threw a defiant glare at the female killer, his posture slouched and rebellious, though noticeably
less volatile than before.
"The little mutt sure knows how to obey." Martha sneered as she flicked Arabella's bun, pacing back and forth. "What to do, what to
do? I don't catch you every day, and now | find myself almost reluctant to see you dead."
Arabella raised her clear eyes, her tone as calm as a gentle breeze, "I'm bound to die at your hands sooner or later, so why not let
Suddenly, Martha's eyes flashed with a fierce glint, scrutinizing Arabella.
"Are you recording this? Or is there a hidden camera on you? I've been feeling something's off since the start. With your defiant
spirit, you wouldn't surrender so easily, and you've been fishing for my words. Search for her! And not just her! Search that loyal
pup of hers thoroughly!"
With a cold snort, Arabella's lips curled into a mocking smile, "So, I'm that formidable in your eyes, huh?"
"Shut it!" Martha snapped, flustered and infuriated.
Two of Martha's guys took turns patting Arabella down. They tugged at her bun, finding nothing but lush hair, and the hair tie was
just an ordinary one, adorned with a tiny diamond tiara.
Her clothes were casual, pockets in her hoodie, and trousers were all checked—no suspicious items.
Horace, too, was searched from head to toe repeatedly, and still, nothing out of the ordinary was found.
Even his shoes were taken off, and the insoles flipped, revealing nothing hidden.
Martha eyed Arabella suspiciously and asked, "What kind of gare you playing?"
"I'm tied up, my phone's been smashed, and my only ally is in your capture. Surrounded by over a dozen of your armed men, so
what tricks could | possibly play?"
Hearing this, Martha's triumphant smirk returned, her earlier doubts subsiding, replaced by a vindictive grin.
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"If you had been this compliant from the get-go, you wouldn't be in this mess." Martha's venomous gaze fell upon Arabella, "But
you just had to act all high and mighty."
It was so irritating!
"When have | ever been high and mighty? Don't those words suit your daughter more?" Arabella couldn't help but laugh, "For
eighteen years, your daughter basked in luxury under my name. When | cback, | didn't make a fuss. | let her stay and
continue living in opulence. Shouldn't you be grateful?"
"Grateful to you?" Martha scoffed as if she heard the most absurd thing, her laugh cold, "Had you been friendly and humble with
Serena, | indeed would have spared you. But what did you do? You hurt her tand again."
Arabella was confused. When had she ever hurt Serena?
From the day she returned to the house, it was Serena who had been hurting her with backhanded comments like, "Sis, up so
early? You don't have to change your habits on our account—feel free to sleep in as you did at your place."
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