A deep red mark quickly appeared on Janet's pale wrist.
She winced, brows knitting in pain.
When her eyes met the fiery ones glaring down at her, her heart welled with grievance, and her voice rose a few notches,
"What right do you have to control me? Who even are you to me?"
Just thinking about how he had paraded around with Elvira like they were inseparable made Janet burn with fury.
They had barely known each other—was this his true nature all along?
She remembered their first encounter, before she even married Philip.
He had seen straight through her mask in an instant.
What she didn't know then was that, on that drunken night, they had already spent a night under the same roof.
A man like him, glowing with charm, would naturally be surrounded by adoring women.
"Have you forgotten your identity, woman?"
Charles's voice was low and dangerous.
"You are Philip's woman!"
