Chapter 7 A Black Sedan
925 Words
"Violet, how dare you speak to Cynthia like that?"
Percival's smile disappeared. His gaze darkened, anger building behind his eyes.
He was furious but also stunned.
He had never expected Violet, who had always been obedient and quiet, to say something so outrageous.
Where had she suddenly found the nerve?
"It seems I've spoiled you too much."
Percival's voice grew colder.
"I should have left you on the streets where I found you. The clothes you wear, the things you use, the luxury brands on your wrist, the right to step into high-end places... Tell me, which one of those didn't come from me?"
Before he could finish, he stopped.
Violet had already begun removing her jewelry. She took off her necklace first, then her earrings, and finally her bracelet. Each piece was set aside before she calmly removed her coat and the layers beneath it, letting them fall lightly to the floor.
She moved slowly, but every motion carried quiet determination.
When she finally stopped, she was left standing in nothing but thin thermal clothes.
Percival had never imagined she would go this far just to oppose him.
A strange irritation rose in his chest, along with a vague sense that something was slipping beyond his control.
"Percy," Cynthia said with a mocking smile, deliberately fanning the flames. "If she's so proud, why not punish her by sending her back to begging?"
Percival's usual detached composure fractured. He let out a cold, sharp sneer, biting down hard on his next words.
"It seems you have gotten used to being treated too well. It's time you learned your place."
In the freezing winter night, Violet was forced out of Percival's car wearing nothing but her thin thermal clothes.
As she stepped onto the roadside, Cynthia lowered the car window and tossed a cracked bowl straight at her. The bowl struck Violet before dropping to the ground. Cynthia leaned out of the window, smiling with open mockery.
"Here. A beggar should at least have a proper bowl."
Violet looked up at her. Something stirred in the depths of her eyes, dark and unreadable.
In the end, she only smiled slightly, though there was no trace of warmth in the expression.
Percival's car sped away down the road. Not long after, a low-profile black sedan pulled up steadily in front of Violet.
*****
For the next five days, Violet stayed quietly in the presidential suite arranged by her people.
On the first day, Cynthia posted a photo on social media. The picture showed Percival in profile, and the concern in his charming eyes was impossible to miss.
Caption: I just got a little fever, and Percy is acting like the world is ending. I'm the luckiest girl in the world.
The post made Violet think back to years ago. One night, she had developed a high fever. Percival had left an important international meeting midway and rushed home. He had awkwardly tried to cool her down with a cold towel and stayed beside her until the middle of the night.
On the second day, Cynthia posted again. The photos showed countless limited-edition handbags, luxury car keys, and a picture of the two of them kissing beneath a Ferris wheel.
Caption: I said I liked them, and he bought them all for me.
Aside from showering Violet with expensive jewelry and bags, Percival had once won a vintage fountain pen at a high-end auction specifically for her.
Later, Violet discovered that the pen was the same brand Percival himself had used for years.
At the time, he had smiled and rubbed her head with an affectionate tone.
"Your old pen was scratching the paper, so I picked this one up for you."
That winter, snow covered the city. Violet had never experienced love before. She held the pen tightly in her hand and believed, with naive certainty, that she had finally stepped into Percival's world.
She willingly threw herself into the fire like a moth. She believed that she could spend a lifetime of quiet, ordinary days paying for that one brilliant moment.
But...
Violet's expression gradually turned ice.
The dignity of the McCarthy family was not something anyone could trample on!
Nine more days remained before she would return to Iskavia.
When the time came, everyone who had hurt her would pay for it!
The sudden ringing of her phone interrupted her thoughts.
It was Percival.
Violet hesitated briefly before answering.
"Come to the intersection," Percival said. His deep voice carried the tone of someone giving orders. "There's a black sedan waiting."
He spoke calmly, but he left no room for discussion. Before Violet could respond, he ended the call.
*****
The car sped down the highway while silence filled the interior.
After a long pause, Percival spoke first.
"Cynthia has a recital in a few days. You'll go with her and help carry her train."
"Vivi," he continued, "as long as you behave yourself and stop antagonizing Cynthia, I will continue taking care of you for the sake of the years we've spent together."
Violet responded with a faint, dismissive laugh.
Percival glanced at her through the rearview mirror. Her expression made him frown, and he forced down the strange uneasiness growing in his chest.
"Every inch of land in Morvani is soaked in money," he continued. "Even if a stray like you spent your entire life begging, you would never gain a foothold here. Without me..."
He pressed his fingers against his brow, looking tired, and was about to continue when Violet interrupted him calmly.
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