Finally, under my pleading gaze, she turned and went upstairs.
Vincent then turned and carried me into the bedroom that he had spent a lot of money decorating for me.
The most costly part of the room was the soundproofing.
How laughable. I had once been moved, thinking he did this so I could sleep peacefully without disturbing sounds.
In reality, he only did this to come into the room to indulge his own desires, while ensuring that Mrs. Cross, who lived on the third floor, wouldn’t discover anything. A sourness spread in my heart.
But when he locked the door and once again pressed himself on me, disgust quickly overwhelmed all the bitterness.
His leg pressed against my ankle, the sharp pain causing me to cry out in agony.
Vincent seemed a bit displeased. "Enough, stop pretending. I was just about to praise you for your great acting when you twisted your ankle... Wear the maid outfit I had custom-made for you today..."
Vincent, consumed by his own desires, pretended to be busy in front of his mother for a long time, not noticing that my ankle had already become swollen and bruised.