When he was twelve years old, he dragged his sick body to beat the gangsters who surrounded her with bad intentions to death.
When he was fifteen years old, he went to the nearest supermarket with a red face to buy her sanitary napkins.
When he was sixteen years old, he tore up the love letter written by the school grass to her with a sullen face, trapped the little girl in the corner and warned her not to fall in love too early.
When he was seventeen years old, he took charge of the Dolton Group, but still gave up the order of 1 million dollars and patiently took her home after a hangover in the bar.
That night, Beatrice expressed her feelings to him under the influence of alcohol and kissed him boldly.
Harold pushed her away as if he had been electrocuted, his voice as cold as frost.
“What are you doing? You are not even an adult yet. Who did you learn to kiss from!”
He pinched the girl’s chin fiercely and said the most chilling words, “Want to sleep with me, huh? Don’t you even consider whether you are qualified enough!”
He threw the girl into the bathtub with a cold face to sober up.