Someone instantly chuckled and buttered up, “Of course, now Fritz sits highest in Rosalie’s heart.”
I stood beyond the doorway, a chilly smile slowly rising on my mouth.
No revenge?
Then I would not live up to the Porter name.
I got into the vehicle and pulled out my phone.
“Tonight at twelve.”
“Bring Fritz to me.”
“And get skin repair tools and a medical crew ready.”
A bit after eleven, my phone display lit up.
My sister sent a note. “I had guards take Fritz. He’ll reach the old house in twenty minutes.”
I was just about to answer when my friend sent a video.
I opened it, and Fritz was grinning widely at the camera.
“Today I drew a special piece for an old guy.”
He waved the tattoo tool before the lens.
“Guess what I inked on him? ‘Nashville No.1 Bootlicker’!”
“You didn’t see, he’s already thirty and still dares to show his chest. His skin’s so slack the needle barely stayed. I pressed hard on purpose three times, no matter what, it won’t fade.”
The comments flooded in wildly, “Main lead energy."
“Nice work.”
“Hahahahaha.”
Fritz grew more excited as he talked, pride glowing in his eyes.