Layla's POV:
At Richard's doorstep.
Richard hurled a cardboard box at my feet, his bloodshot eyes burning with spite. "You'll live to regret this, you little ingrate," he snarled.
Looking at the small box before me, I suddenly felt a pang of sadness.
Its surface was worn, the corners frayed from years of neglect.
Perhaps due to the thin cardboard, the heavy contents have slightly deformed its shape.
'Nineteen years of Emilia's life reduced to a single battered box.' I knelt to examine its meager contents — just a few worn books and trinkets. 'Surely there must be more,' I thought, though deep down I knew better.
'Richard had probably already pawned anything of value.'
Since he couldn't get anything out of me, he naturally wouldn't give up even a bit of profit.
I adjusted the box's
