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To exact revenge, she struck a deal with the cold, ruthless head of a powerful family. After their plan succeeded, he cornered her against a wall, his voice almost pitiful. "I helped you take down those people. Don't you think you owe me some time alone?" She froze, stunned. Had their alliance turned into something else? ===== "You've weathered countless storms over the years. Welcome home, Arabella." At the celebratory dinner, a young man in a perfectly tailored suit found himself unwilling to look away from Arabella Stanley. She possessed an otherworldly beauty, her sharp features sculpted with precision and wrapped in an aura of cool detachment. Her piercing eyes revealed nothing of her inner thoughts, and when she spoke, her voice carried the same arctic chill. "I'm leaving now." Joshua Willis, the young man, seized the moment without hesitation. "Allow me to drive you home." Arabella offered no resistance. The car glided through the night. The city lights blurred past as Joshua stole glances at her profile. "When do you plan to return to the company? Our empire continues to flourish." Their partnership had begun years ago through a chance project, and Joshua had witnessed Arabella's brilliance firsthand. He had persuaded her to join forces, and together they had forged a company that now dominated the entire industry. Arabella maintained her measured tone. "I'll decide when the time feels right. For now, I simply want to reach home." "Understood completely. You must be eager to reunite with Daisy. She's undoubtedly thriving. I've been directing all the premium projects to your aunt's husband throughout these years." Joshua's grin widened as he angled for recognition. Arabella and her twin sister Daisy Stanley had lost their parents at the tender age of six, and their aunt Meagan Tucker had stepped in to care for them both. Arabella acknowledged him with a subtle nod. "I appreciate that." Her delicate fingers found the cherry blossom pendant resting against her throat, clicking it open to reveal a treasured photograph of herself and Daisy. Arabella's expression remained stoic in the image, but Daisy's smile blazed with pure joy. Studying her sister's radiant face, Arabella felt an unfamiliar warmth soften her features. After their parents' tragic death, Arabella and Daisy had become each other's entire world. Daisy had always been their family's ray of sunshine, illuminating every room she entered. At twelve, Arabella had been handpicked by the government for a classified operation that consumed seven years of her life. Now that the mission had concluded, she could finally return to Daisy. She had forwarded nearly every government paycheck to her sister, ensuring Daisy lived in comfort and security. Joshua's eyes widened in amazement as he witnessed Arabella's smile. The legendary ice queen was actually smiling? His curiosity about Arabella's sister intensified dramatically. The car approached an upscale residential community, where each house boasted its own meticulously maintained garden. The vehicle glided to a stop in front of a house. This was the home Arabella's parents had bequeathed to them, now shared between Meagan and Daisy. The estate glowed with warm light, alive with the sound of cheerful laughter. Daisy seemed to be flourishing beautifully. With that thought in mind, Arabella preserved her gentle smile as she crossed into the front yard. A weathered doghouse sat in the corner of the property. Someone knelt beside it in the shadows. Through the dim evening light, Arabella couldn't distinguish the person's features, but she watched them scooping food directly from the bowl placed on the ground. Why would someone be eating beside the doghouse? Concern creased her brow as Arabella approached cautiously. The figure appeared startled and scrambled quickly into the doghouse. Arabella's bewilderment deepened. Then a soft, trembling voice drifted from within the shelter. "Please don't strike me again. I won't make any mistakes. I'll be so much more careful..." That voice belonged to Daisy. Arabella's heart shattered instantly. She lunged forward, pulling the figure from the doghouse. Even in the pale moonlight, she recognized her beloved sister immediately. Daisy stared back, her eyes swimming with disbelief. "You..." she breathed, as though she feared her mind was playing cruel tricks on her. "Daisy, is that truly you?" Arabella's voice trembled with disbelief. When Daisy nodded weakly, a glacial fury erupted within Arabella, her eyes igniting with volcanic rage. "Bella..." Daisy whispered, still trapped in shock. "You've actually come back?" The moment felt impossibly surreal to Daisy, like a vision conjured from desperate longing. Arabella, sensing something terribly wrong, reached out to touch Daisy's forehead. Her skin burned with fever. Before Arabella could process this discovery, Daisy crumpled into her arms like a broken doll. Arabella cradled her sister, whose body felt heartbreakingly frail and ice-cold despite the raging fever consuming her. Arabella's heart crystallized into something harder than diamond. The front door of the house suddenly burst open with violent force. "Daisy, you worthless creature! It's been several minutes, and you're still not finished eating? Get inside immediately and wash those dishes!" Meagan's voice sliced through the night air like a bl**e. Arabella pivoted slowly, her predatory gaze locking onto her target. Meagan had transformed dramatically over the years. Once haggard and perpetually exhausted, she now radiated wealth and privilege, adorned in an expensive designer coat and gleaming jewelry that caught the porch light, presenting herself as the very embodiment of refined elegance. Meagan's bl**d turned to ice under Arabella's lethal stare. "You... Arabella? When did you arrive?" "What have you done to her?" Arabella advanced with calculated steps, her voice dropping to a menacing whisper. Meagan instinctively retreated, unsettled by the predatory intensity burning in Arabella's eyes. But she quickly rallied her confidence, reminding herself that Arabella was still just a young woman. She twisted her lips into a cruel sneer. "Daisy shattered a dish, so I administered appropriate punishment. You've been absent for years. Do you possess any understanding of how challenging life has been here? I never allowed her to starve or sleep without shelter. If you weren't my brother's daughters, I wouldn't have wasted my time with either of you." In one fluid motion, Arabella's hand shot out and seized Meagan by the throat, her expression transforming into something carved from arctic stone. Meagan ga**ed desperately, clawing at Arabella's iron grip. "Let... me... go..." "This is my house," Arabella declared, her voice carrying the finality of a death sentence, her eyes radiating lethal intent. "You forced Daisy to perform menial labor. You made her sleep in that doghouse like an animal. You possess remarkable audacity, Meagan." In the warm light streaming from the house, Arabella finally saw what Daisy had been consuming. It was the leftover food. Holding her sister, who felt as weightless as a dying bird and appeared ghostly pale and utterly drained, Arabella felt her heart shatter into countless pieces. Her precious sister had endured this nightmare! "Meagan," Arabella said, her voice saturated with deadly promise, "when you moved into our home, you swore a sacred oath that you would care for Daisy." Meagan bristled at Arabella's bold use of her first name, the disrespect cutting deep. But she shrank backward when she witnessed the murderous gleam dancing in Arabella's eyes. Arabella had always been fundamentally different from other children. She was cold and fearlessly bold. When Arabella had lived here, Meagan had performed the role of a dutiful aunt, though barely meeting even the lowest standards. But the moment Arabella departed, Meagan had seized absolute control, systematically crushing the gentle-spirited Daisy beneath her cruel authority. She had never imagined Arabella would return to witness her crimes. "I did take care of Daisy! She made a mistake, so I disciplined her accordingly. What's so terrible about that?" Meagan's words died in her throat as Arabella's grip tightened mercilessly, making her feel as though death itself was reaching for her soul. "Arabella?" The violent commotion finally drew the attention of the people inside. Meagan's husband and daughter noticed the deadly confrontation unfolding at their door. Through the wide open front door, Arabella observed them living luxuriously in a spacious and magnificently decorated villa, with a table overflowing with exquisite delicacies. The people inside wore expensive clothing that spoke of comfort and abundance. Meanwhile, Daisy had been sleeping in a doghouse, consuming leftovers. Arabella's eyes burned with unshed tears as the devastating truth crashed over her with overwhelming force. Chapter 2 Can You Check Who Made The Payment Khloe Tucker was fuming. "Let go of my mom, Arabella! Back then, she offered to take care of you and Daisy out of kindness. Is that how you repay her? You show up after disappearing for years, acting like you're some kind of hero? What, did you run off, get pr**nant, and have a kid or something? What a joke!" Khloe threw Arabella a nasty glare, but deep down, she actually hoped Arabella might stay. Having her back would mean more help around the house. But Arabella's eyes had already gone cold. Without saying a word, she entered the house and kicked the dining table hard. Dishes flew everywhere, crashing onto the floor and shattering into pieces. Before anyone could react, Arabella grabbed two vases and hurled them straight at Khloe and her father. They hit them squarely, and bl**d started trickling down their faces as they screamed in shock. Her voice was ice. "You've got one day. Get out of my house." Without waiting for a reply, she stormed out with Daisy in her arms. She flagged down the first taxi she saw and rushed her sister straight to a hospital. Back at the villa, chaos broke out. "Mom! That psycho actually attacked me!" Khloe sobbed, staring at the scratches on her face in the mirror. "What if I'm left with scars?" Meagan's fury boiled over. "She's gotten way too bold after all these years! If she shows her face again, she won't be so lucky. We're not nobodies anymore. We've joined hands with Norman Group. There's no way she can stand against us!" She gave Khloe a comforting pat. "Don't worry, honey. I'm taking you to a hospital right now." *** At the hospital, the doctor examined Daisy and frowned. "Her leg's been broken for a while, and she's covered in bruises. Some of her teeth are missing too. What kind of sister lets this happen?" Arabella's voice was low. "It's my fault." Her bangs fell over her eyes, hiding whatever she was feeling inside. The doctor, noticing how quiet she was, spoke gently. "I've done what I could for now. But if someone's been hurting you two, you need to report it. Keeping quiet won't fix anything." Arabella gave a small nod and moved to stand beside Daisy's hospital bed. Daisy, now nineteen, looked heartbreakingly fragile. Her thin frame looked like it couldn't support itself, and her wrists seemed more like twigs than limbs. Her short hair was uneven, dry, and choppy, like someone had taken scissors to it without a second thought. Arabella gently lifted the blanket, and her heart dropped. Daisy's skin told a horrifying story. Old whip marks crisscrossed her legs, and dark burn spots marred her arms. Each scar screamed of cruelty. Arabella's breath caught, and before she could stop them, tears rolled down her cheeks. "Bella..." Daisy's voice was barely a whisper. Arabella immediately reached for her hand. "I'm here," she said softly. "I... missed you," Daisy murmured, her voice hoarse. Arabella clutched her hand like a lifeline. "I missed you too. I thought if I worked hard, I could give you a better life. But I was wrong. I never should've left you alone. I swear, I'm not going anywhere again." The warmth in Arabella's voice seemed to melt Daisy's tension. Slowly, her expression softened. After making sure Daisy was settled, Arabella went to sort out the payment. "The charges have already been covered," the nurse said with a kind smile. Arabella blinked. "What? Who paid?" Joshua crossed her mind, but she quickly dismissed the thought. There was no way he knew about this yet. "Can you check who made the payment?" she asked. The nurse gave an apologetic shake of the head. "Sorry, that information's private. Maybe a family member helped out?" At the word family, Arabella's face turned to stone. She gave a short nod and walked off without another word. If someone had helped, she was going to find out who. Meanwhile, down the corridor, Meagan strolled beside her daughter, Khloe, who was fresh out of the emergency room with her face patched up. "I'm not letting Arabella walk away from this," Khloe snarled, bitterness burning in her voice. "Calm down," Meagan said sharply. "You'll reopen your stitches if you keep flaring up like this. Be more like your sister--grace under pressure." That seemed to cheer Khloe up. A smug smile tugged at her lips. "As long as my sister keeps shining, that's all that matters. She's the youngest dancer in the Griridge Troupe now. Daisy really thought she could outshine her? She was delusional. That broken leg was karma, if you ask me. And if my sister finds out how Arabella treated me--oh, she'll tear her apart." "She's got a big show coming up," Meagan reminded her. "Let's not distract her. One step at a time." She tapped Khloe's nose lightly, but then her expression stiffened as she spotted Arabella ahead. Khloe saw Arabella too, and just the sight of her brought back the sting of humiliation. Her rage boiled over. Without thinking, she grabbed her studded handbag and swung it with all her strength toward Arabella's back. Arabella's instincts kicked in. Just as she turned around, a tall man came into view. With quick reflexes and strong arms, he grabbed the bag mid-air by its strap, stopping it like it was nothing. The sudden pull made Khloe lose her balance, and with a startled scream, she fell to the floor. Chapter 3 Grab Your Things And Come With Me "Khloe!" Meagan hurried to her daughter's side, helping her up while shooting a vicious glare at the man who had shown up out of nowhere. "Who the h**l are you? Arabella's new guy or what?" The man didn't bother responding. His sharp eyes gave nothing away, cold and unreadable, like the still, deep sea that hid its danger. Then he began walking toward Meagan, each step loud and heavy on the hospital floor. Meagan instinctively took a step back. Her ch**t tightened, making it hard to breathe. Deep down, something told her this man wasn't just any stranger--he was trouble. Trying to mask her unease, she snapped, "Arabella, you'd better think twice before crossing us again. You and your sister were lucky we let you stay at all! If you ever want back in, come crawling, and maybe we'll consider it." Yanking Khloe's arm, Meagan stormed off. Arabella stood silently, watching them go. Let them stay? That house was legally Daisy's and hers. She glanced at the man and caught sight of a pi**ol, just for a second, before it disappeared beneath his jacket. Her eyes narrowed slightly. Who was this guy? He turned and looked directly at her. Arabella finally saw his face--handsome as h**l, rough around the edges, and those icy eyes didn't blink or soften for anyone. He gave off a vibe that screamed danger--Arabella had never felt anything like it. No surprise Meagan bolted--anyone with sense would have. "Arabella Stanley," he said. His tone was calm and low, but there was a chill in it that made her skin prickle. Arabella glanced him over. "You're the one who paid for my sister, right?" He gave a faint nod. "You're quick. Grab your things and come with me." Arabella's brows drew together. "Excuse me?" Who even was this guy, showing up with mystery and attitude? Before things got tenser, another man stepped in--less intimidating but equally serious. "Miss Stanley, allow me to explain. This is Mr. Asher Gordon. His father and your dad served together in the military. Before his father passed away, he asked Mr. Gordon to watch over your family. Mr. Gordon only recently returned from service and has been trying to track you down since." That explained the military presence, the icy calm... the way he moved like someone trained for war. Arabella studied Asher again. He didn't seem threatening now, but just closed off, like someone with a wall too thick to climb over. She stayed calm. "You got anything to back that up? Anyone can say that." Asher reached into his pocket and pulled out a weathered photo. It showed two men in dusty uniforms--one was definitely her father. The other looked a lot like him. She stared at it for a long moment before replying, "I'll think about it." "Fair. Let's exchange numbers," Asher replied without any small talk. Arabella added his contact. His WhatsApp display was just a solid black box. Funny enough, hers was the same. A strange little coincidence, she thought. Then the assistant added her as well. "Dominick Powell, Mr. Gordon's right hand. Reach out if you need help with anything, anytime." Arabella gave a nod. "Got it." With that, the two men walked off, and Arabella made her way back to Daisy's room. Shortly after, two silent, suited bodyguards appeared at the door--they were clearly sent by Asher. Arabella didn't ask questions. She got to work helping Daisy clean up--changing her into fresh clothes and gently washing her hair, trying to fix its brittle, uneven mess. But when she saw the scars and ci**rette burns covering Daisy's body, her eyes welled up again. Holding back her tears, she carefully rubbed her homemade cream onto the wounds. Then, without wasting a second, she opened her laptop. She had to find out what had happened to Daisy while she was gone, so she hacked into the villa's security system. Sadly, what she saw made her sick to her stomach. It wasn't long after Arabella left that Daisy was thrown out of her own bedroom and made to sleep in a doghouse. The cheerful, lively sister Arabella remembered didn't smile anymore. She saw footage of Daisy juggling multiple part-time jobs, only to get ha**ssed and pushed around. Even so, she kept working hard and made it into one of the top universities. But during her very first semester, she ended up with a broken leg. She was studying dance, and just like that, the injury shattered everything she had dreamed of. The pieces fell into place too easily. Khloe's sister, Elissa Tucker, was in the same class. Arabella's gut told her that leg injury hadn't been some fluke. After that, Daisy barely left the house. She was treated like hired help, scrubbing floors, cooking meals, and still sleeping out in that d**n doghouse. Yet every time Daisy texted her, it was the same lie. "I'm doing fine. Don't worry about me. You just take care of yourself." Arabella's vision blurred. While her sister was being broken piece by piece, their aunt's family was thriving. Their business had taken off, thanks to a lucrative deal with the Vanguard Group. Khloe, a middle school dropout, was suddenly a digital influencer. Elissa was famous and popular in the college. Meagan was rubbing shoulders with high-society ladies, and her husband had become some corporate hotshot. Arabella clenched her jaw and slammed her fist against the table. She didn't even feel the sting. Every bit of success she had worked for... had only served to feed that vile family's greed. And the one person she had sworn to protect had suffered in silence the entire time. Chapter 4 This Revenge Is Mine To Carry Out Arabella took a slow breath, wiped the tears from her cheeks, and her eyes turned cold, like a fire had been snuffed out and replaced with ice. Her fingers gripped her phone tightly as she made a call. "That major project--it hasn't been handed over to the Tucker Group yet, right? Cancel it. Completely." Her voice was calm but firm. "And get to the Griridge Hospital. Now." On the other end, Joshua sounded startled. "Arabella? What's going on?" "You'll see when you get here. Bring a few things with you." True to form, Joshua didn't waste time. Less than half an hour later, he rushed into the hospital, and the moment his eyes landed on the girl in the hospital bed, he froze like a statue. She looked so much like Arabella--same face, but all color drained, bruised, battered, her body wrecked like it had been thrown away and forgotten. Joshua's fists clenched. "Who did this? Tell me who it was. I'll make them pay, I swear it!" That was the sister of a preeminent figure... and they treated her like this? Arabella didn't flinch. "I'll handle it myself. Slowly," she muttered, picking up a pair of sc**sors from the table. Before Joshua could react, the sc**sors had already cut through her long, silky hair. The strands dropped to the floor in silence. He stared, stunned. "Arabella... you're not actually..." "I am," she said. "This revenge is mine to carry out." Joshua swallowed hard, goosebumps rising on his arms. The way she said it--it was clear. H**l was coming for someone. Arabella glanced at him. "Also, what do you know about the Gordons?" "The Gordon family?" He immediately straightened. "They're legendary. Way beyond the top elite families. Super wealthy, but incredibly discreet. I've only ever worked with the right-hand man of their current CEO." "You mean Dominick Powell?" Arabella asked casually. Joshua's jaw dropped. "Wait, you know Dominick? Don't tell me... are you saying the Gordons were involved in what happened to Daisy?" Arabella gave him a blank stare before calmly explaining Asher's connection and what he had said earlier. Joshua slapped his thigh, clearly overwhelmed. "Asher Gordon? If it's really him, then yeah, no one's faking that. He leads the family. Rumor has it he's ex-special forces, quiet as a ghost, but deadly. If someone crosses him, they don't get a second chance." Arabella didn't react. She just stared at the floor, her thoughts turning in circles. Then she spoke, steady and cold. "You should head out now. Also... sell my villa." Joshua hesitated. "That place... that's your parents' home. Are you sure?" Arabella looked over at Daisy's fragile frame. "She was tortured in that house. There's no comfort left there. Just get rid of it." Her voice cracked slightly. "And if possible, find a buyer who's impossible to deal with." Joshua gave her a long look, then nodded. "Understood. I've got a bunch of properties lined up. If you ever need a place, it's yours." "Thanks." She didn't look up, and Joshua, sensing she needed space, quietly slipped out the door. Left alone, Arabella gently held Daisy's hand and murmured, "I swear, everyone who hurt you... I'll make them pay for it tenfold." That night felt endless, and sleep didn't come. The next morning, Arabella stood quietly outside a dance studio at Griridge University's dance department, listening through the open door. "Elissa, things have been so dull without that pathetic girl around," someone inside snickered. "I know, right? No one to fetch us coffee, no one to mess with. It's no fun without a punching bag," another chimed in. Peering through the glass window, Arabella spotted Elissa in the middle of the dance studio. Years ago, Elissa had been just a pale, skinny kid. Now she was dressed in a flowing white dance outfit, all elegance and grace, like something out of a dream. Surrounded by classmates, Elissa flashed a gentle, modest smile at the comments. "Guys, don't say that. Let's not be mean." "You're too kind, Elissa," Joyce Lambert, her good friend, scoffed. "That girl sponged off your family for years. If it were me, I'd have thrown her out of your house on day one." Arabella narrowed her eyes slightly. Calling it their house? Seriously? That place belonged to her and Daisy. Elissa and her family were the ones living off of them. Elissa tilted her head, her voice syrupy sweet. "She's my cousin, after all. Her parents passed away. If we didn't take her in, she would've had nowhere to go." Her fake compassion earned gasps of admiration from the crowd. What a generous soul, they all seemed to think. The loud chatter in the dance studio instantly stopped the moment Arabella walked in. "Daisy?" Joyce blinked in surprise. She stared at Arabella, stunned. She looked the same, but... something about her felt different now. Chapter 5 Got Yourself A Su**r Daddy The dance studio fell silent, as if someone had hit pause. Every single eye was locked on Arabella, but she acted like she didn't see a thing and confidently made her way to the back, where she began stretching like it was just another day. Joyce's jaw clenched. "Daisy, you've got some nerve showing up out of nowhere like this!" Joyce barked, marching over and swinging a sharp kick at her. "Just because we've gone easy on you doesn't mean you're not taking orders from us!" But Arabella moved with ease, dodging the kick without breaking a sweat. Joyce lost her balance and hit the floor face-first with a loud, painful thud. "You dodged me?" Joyce screeched in disbelief. Her face turned red with fury as she raised her hand to s**p Arabella. But just like before, Arabella slipped out of reach like a shadow. Joyce's swing caught nothing but air, and she stumbled forward, grabbing her lower back with a wince. "D**n it!" "My bad," Arabella said gently, her voice almost too soft to catch. Joyce wanted to explode, but something about Arabella's calmness made her hesitate. She didn't dare swing again. Instead, she snapped, "What are you just standing there for? Get over here and help us stretch already!" "So, Daisy's really back," she thought smugly. "Still the same pathetic errand girl." Arabella's gaze briefly darkened, but she gave a polite nod like an obedient student. She knelt beside Joyce and began helping her with leg stretches. Joyce smirked. "You look even sadder than before. Honestly, it's pathetic." But then, a painful scream cut through the air. Joyce's leg jolted, and she broke into a cold sweat, grabbing her thigh. "My leg... what the h**l? Did you snap my leg?" The class crowded around her in a frenzy. "Is she alright? Someone call for help!" "Look, the teacher just walked in!" Their panic was cut short as the teacher entered the room. Arabella still had Joyce's leg in her hands. Calmly, almost casually, she gave it a subtle twist. "Ah!" Joyce screamed even louder, nearly in tears from the pain. "What's going on in here?" The teacher frowned, scanning the chaos. "My leg! It feels broken... I can't--" Joyce wailed, then blinked in confusion. Just seconds later, she could move it again. "Wait... what?" "You look fine to me." The teacher shot a look at Joyce--one that wasn't exactly sympathetic. She had seen enough of these girls' antics over the years. "I don't care what drama you're cooking up on your own time, but today's important. The Griridge Troupe selection is happening. The dean and senior faculty will be here shortly, so I expect everyone to act like professionals." "I swear, I..." Joyce began, trying to protest. "That's enough." Elissa cut her off, stepping forward with an easy smile. "Let's not waste more time. Joyce, calm down." Elissa's tone made it clear--this wasn't the time to pick fights. Joyce had no choice but to bite her tongue and swallow her anger, though her glare at Arabella could have burned through steel. The teacher clapped her hands, and class began. During the last twenty minutes, a few other teachers showed up to observe. By the time class ended, the room was filled with a mix of nervous energy and excited chatter. "God, I really hope I get picked. Dancing alongside Elissa would be a dream come true." "Elissa, don't forget us when you're famous!" someone teased. Elissa gave her signature angelic smile. "Of course not. You're all my people." Then someone dropped a name that made the entire class go silent. "They say Isabella might be watching today." Gasps rippled through the room. Even Elissa blinked in shock, her breath catching. Isabella Wallace was the icon of modern dance. Her performances were legendary, her choreography unrivaled. Just being seen by her could open doors. "If Isabella notices me, that's it. That's my breakthrough," Elissa thought, her gaze sharpening with quiet ambition. But then someone spoke up, disrupting the mood. "I saw Daisy dancing earlier. Honestly, she wasn't bad at all." Joyce scoffed loud enough for the room to hear. "Daisy? Please. She's pathetic. No way she'd get picked." Turning her attention to Daisy, she said, "Hey, what are you still doing here, anyway? Go get our lunch. You remember our order, right?" Without a word, Arabella nodded and walked off, her tall frame moving with a silent elegance despite the slump in her shoulders. "Ugh. Even the way she walks is irritating. Does she actually think she's all graceful or something? What a complete eyesore!" Joyce sneered. By the time Joyce, Elissa, and the rest of their group showed up at the cafeteria, laughing and cracking jokes, Arabella already had their meals prepared. Her eyes quietly scanned each of them--calm, blank, giving nothing away. But in her mind, she was taking note of everything. Joyce, whose father ran the Lambert Group, was spoiled beyond belief and filthy rich. Next to her was Kenzie Marsh--the meek, glasses-wearing music student who practically worshipped the ground Elissa walked on. And behind them, the two guys were followers, plain and simple. They were all muscle without a mind. Joyce looked at the food Arabella had bought and narrowed her eyes. "Well, well. Where'd you get the cash, huh? Got yourself a su**r daddy? I thought you were broke, freeloader." Joyce kept running her mouth but still dove into the food--everyone was starving after dancing all morning. However, midway through eating, something went terribly wrong. Joyce coughed violently, bl**d trickling from her lips as she clutched her throat, her eyes wide in panic. The others followed suit, gasping, hands around their necks, as if something sharp was tearing through their throats. "It burns--what's happening?" they wh**zed, struggling to speak as pain ripped through them. Elissa stared at her in disbelief, still holding her throat. "Daisy... what did you do?" "That little bi**h's getting revenge!" Joyce screamed, losing it completely. "You think Elissa letting you tag along means we'll go easy on you? You're dead!" Furious, she flung her food tray at Arabella, while the two boys beside her instinctively lunged forward, ready to grab her without hesitation. Chapter 6 Do You Have Any Proof The students nearby were numb to this kind of chaos. "Alright, that's enough," Elissa said, her voice sounding gentle on the surface but hollow beneath it. She stayed comfortably seated, not bothering to step in--after all, she never did when things got ugly. Meanwhile, Arabella, calm and collected, didn't even flinch. When the tray came flying her way, she calmly reached up and caught it in one smooth motion. The momentum flipped the tray's course, and it slammed straight into one of the two boys' faces. The food, laced with slivers of glass, sliced across his skin, and bl**d trickled down his cheek in thin, terrifying lines. "S**t! That hurts!" he cried out. One look at the bl**d was enough, and he collapsed in panic, completely out cold. The other guy didn't back down. Snarling, he reached for Arabella's hair, yanking it hard. "You think you're tough, Daisy? Huh?" His fist flew toward her face, but Arabella caught it mid-swing like it was nothing. His expression froze. She slowly twisted his arm until his knees buckled. "Ahhh! It hurts--stop, please! I'm sorry!" he howled, his face turning as pale as chalk. The second she let go, he hit the floor and curled into himself, sobbing in pain. One of the girls considered helping, but after seeing Arabella in action, she backed off without a word. What a bunch of clowns. Arabella stared at them, her gaze sharp and cold, like she was looking at tr**h. "Have you lost your fu**ing mind?" Joyce screeched, still in denial. Her hands shook as she picked up a chair and hurled it with all her strength. Arabella shifted her weight, spun, and kicked the chair right back--slamming it into Joyce's head. Bl**d splattered instantly. Elissa jumped up in horror, shrieking, "Oh my God!" The cafeteria exploded with shouts. "She's gonna k**l someone! Go find a teacher!" "What is wrong with her? Is she high or something?" "Honestly, she's kind of a badass..." "Shh! Don't let anyone hear you say that!" Thirty minutes later, the university president's office was a pressure cooker. The fight was way too intense to sweep under the rug. Daisy, Elissa, and the rest of the group were hauled in for questioning. Joyce and the others had been bandaged up, but their egos were just as bruised. Elissa looked ready to cry, still rubbing her sore throat like it had swallowed fire. She was furious, terrified the damage was permanent. "Call your parents," the president ordered Arabella sharply, trying to make sense of the madness. "Now." Joyce jumped in before Arabella could speak. "She can't. Her parents are dead!" she sneered. "She's been mooching off Elissa's family for years. No morals. No manners. Just expel her already!" Taken aback, the president looked Arabella up and down. "So, what exactly happened?" Joyce didn't miss a beat. "She put glass in our food. She tried to hurt us and then went berserk. She needs to face consequences!" Arabella didn't even blink. Her voice came out calm and cold. "Do you have any proof? And while we're at it--did I even lay a finger on you first? Pretty sure your side started swinging." "Liar!" Joyce snapped, trying to keep the panic out of her voice. Arabella turned her gaze to the president, cool and steady. "Why don't we pull up the cafeteria security footage?" Silence dropped like a stone. Joyce's face stiffened, and her jaw clenched tight. "We only hit her because she gave us food full of glass! She deserved it!" Arabella tilted her head slightly. "Where's your proof that I put it there?" she asked softly. "Because I have proof of something else." She pulled out her phone and tapped the screen. A video began to play. The footage was damning. It showed Joyce and her gang shoving a sandwich filled with glass into Daisy's mouth. As Daisy's lips b**d, they laughed like it was some sick joke. It was raw and unforgivable. Arabella's ch**t tightened as she watched it, the pain as fresh as the day she found it on Daisy's phone. Even the president's face shifted. He turned to Joyce and her friends with a sharp, icy glare. For a split second, panic flashed across their faces. Trying to smooth things over, Elissa quickly said, "Sir, yeah, Joyce went too far, and we're really sorry. But Daisy was talking tr**h first--Joyce just lost her temper." Arabella raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. "Is that so? Well then, I'll just upload this little clip online and let the public decide who the real victim is." "Absolutely not!" the president barked. "Miss Stanley, if that video gets out, it'll drag the university through the mud. Let's not blow this out of proportion. Apologize to each other, and we'll call it even." Joyce looked outraged. "What? She beat the crap out of us! Why should we just let it go?" Her friends chimed in, just as outraged. Meanwhile, Elissa leaned toward the president and whispered with a sweet smile, "My dad's set to donate $1 million to the school. Just thought you should know." The president's expression shifted. His tone changed. "Daisy," he began, "what they did was wrong. But your response was excessive. This could've been handled differently. You can either apologize now and move forward, or you'll be expelled. And if you upload that video, trust me, public opinion won't be on your side. That would be reckless." Arabella stared at him. So that was what this was. Now she understood why Daisy had been stepped on for so long. These people weren't protecting students--they were protecting their pockets. Joyce, smelling victory, leaned back with a smug grin. "Daisy, you really thought you had the upper hand? You're nothing but a parasite clinging to Elissa's family like a leech. Don't act like you matter. You want to stay here? Then get on your knees and l**k my shoes clean. Maybe, just maybe, I'll let you off the hook." Joyce looked at Arabella like she wasn't even human. Elissa didn't say anything at first, but the fire burning behind her calm expression gave her away. Her throat still hurt, and what bothered her more was the embarrassment. Deep down, she wanted to lash out at Arabella. But on the outside, she just let out a quiet sigh, like she was more hurt than mad. "Daisy, I honestly don't know what happened to you," she said. "But if you can't apologize to us, then pack your things. You're no longer welcome in my home." The president didn't bat an eye. "That's enough. You're done here. Pack up and get out." He waved Arabella off like she was a fly in the room before turning to Elissa with a tight smile. "You're injured. Go rest. We'll take care of everything." Joyce smirked, finally feeling like the universe had balanced itself. With their heads held high, they all moved to strut out like they had won a prize. "Quite the scene," came a calm voice from the doorway, all eyes turned. Arabella raised an eyebrow. How was he here! ...... What happens next? 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„Už jsme se… někdy potkali?“ Říkala jsem si, že to zvládnu udržet profesionální 😣. Říkala jsem si, že na jedné noci nezáleží. Ale v momentě, kdy se na mě Xander podíval tím pohledem—jako by si vzpomněl—všechno se rozpadlo 🔥. Je chladný, mocný, nemožné ho přečíst… a je otcem mých dvojčat, aniž by to věděl. Každé setkání, každý pohled, každá otázka, kterou položí, mě táhne blíž k pravdě, kterou zoufale chci pohřbít ❤️‍🔥. Protože pokud si spojí data, tváře, oči, které až příliš připomínají ty jeho… moje tajemství nepřežije 😣🔥. Kapitola 1 [POHLED DAPHNE] Ráno se začalo rozpadat ještě dřív, než jsem vůbec pořádně otevřela oči. „Maminko, udělejme palačinky!“ Ninčin hlas se nesl bytem jako požární poplach. Našla jsem ji v kuchyni, jak se přehrabuje v zásuvkách. „Dneska na palačinky nemáme čas. Dneska je velký den, maminka má pohovor o novou práci, pamatuješ? Včera jsem ti to říkala.“ „Mně je tvoje práce jedno.“ Vystrčila spodní ret. „Chci palačinky!“ Než jsem stihla odpovědět, objevila se v dveřích Lisa, tvář zkroucenou zoufalstvím. „Maminko, nemůžu najít svoje fialové boty. Potřebuju svoje fialové boty.“ „Co ty růžové? Růžové jsou hezké.“ „Ne!“ V Lisiných očích se zatřpytily slzy. „Jenom fialové. Fialová je moje šťastná barva.“ Podívala jsem se na hodiny na blízké zdi. Čtyřicet pět minut do chvíle, kdy musím projít těmi kancelářskými dveřmi. Čtyřicet pět minut na to, abych nakrmila dvě tvrdohlavé čtyřleté, oblékla je, projela městem a nějak vypadala jako schopná profesionálka, která si zaslouží být přijata. „Dobře. Dobře, najdu ty boty.“ Klekla jsem si a podívala se pod gauč. Jedna fialová bota, pokrytá chuchvalci prachu. Prohledala jsem obývák, holčičí pokoj, pod jejich postelemi. Nic. Nina teď aktivně odpalovala ovesnou kaši lžící na stůl. Dělala jsem, že to nevidím, protože jsem na tenhle boj neměla čas. Koupelna. Proč koupelna? Ale tam byla – druhá fialová bota, nevysvětlitelně ležící vedle záchodu. Klečela jsem a natahovala se pro ni, když mě zastavil Lisin tichý hlas. „Maminko, proč nemáme tatínka jako ostatní děti?“ Ruka mi ztuhla na botě. Otázka visela ve vzduchu, nevinná a zdrcující – nůž, zasunutý mezi žebra s jemností, jakou dokáže jen čtyřleté dítě. Otočila jsem se a viděla ji stát ve dveřích, palec blízko úst, tmavé oči doširoka otevřené a upřímné. Oči, které vypadaly přesně jako něčí jiné. „Co myslíš, zlatíčko?“ Můj hlas zněl pevněji, než jsem čekala. „Emma ve školce má tatínka. A Sofie taky.“ Lisina spodní ret se zachvěl. „Ale my ne. Náš tatínek nás nechtěl?“ Ta slova mě zasáhla jako fyzická rána. Jak bych jí to mohla vysvětlit? Jak vysvětlit něco, co sama nevím? Asi mě nechtěl, protože odešel příliš brzy na to, aby se dozvěděl o našich holčičkách. Přitáhla jsem si ji do náruče, přitiskla rty na její tmavé vlasy a dýchala přes bolest v hrudi. „Naše rodina je dokonalá taková, jaká je,“ zašeptala jsem. „Maminka tě má ráda, tebe i Ninu, za sto rodičů. To víš, viď?“ Lisa přikývla u mého ramene, malé prstíky svíraly moji košili. „Vím, maminko.“ Ale ta otázka ve mně zůstala jako modřina, když jsem jí pomáhala do fialových bot. Z kuchyně jsem uslyšela rázný náraz. Můj hrnek na kávu. Moje plná hrnek kávy, sražený Ninou mávající paží během její ovesné vzpoury, teď rozlévá hnědou řeku po lince a dolů po přední straně mé pečlivě vybrané bílé blůzy. Chvíli jsem tam stála, káva mi kapala na boty, a připomínala si, že pláč stejně nepomůže. „Mami, jsi špinavá,“ poznamenala Nina. „Ano. Děkuji, Nino. Všimla jsem si.“ Záložní oblečení, lehce zmačkané šedé sako a černé kalhoty, které jsem plánovala vyžehlit, ale nikdy se k tomu nedostala, muselo postačit. Převlékla jsem se za tři minuty, obě holky nasoukala do bund a nějakým zázrakem je připoutala do autosedaček, jen dvacet minut po plánu. „Mami, proč jedeš tak rychle?“ zeptala se Lisa ze zadního sedadla. „Nejedu rychle, zlato. Jedu efektivně.“ „Co znamená efektivně?“ „Znamená to, že se máma snaží neztratit rozum.“ Odvedla jsem je do školky s uspěchanými polibky a sliby, že je vyzvednu přesně včas. Pět let tohoto života – pět let, kdy jsem pro ně byla vším, rozprostírala se tak tence, že jsem zapomněla, jaké to je cítit se celistvá. Ale tahle práce by mohla všechno změnit. Tahle práce znamenala stabilitu. Opravdovou výplatu místo živoření na volných zakázkách, které sotva pokryly nájem. Zdravotní pojištění pro holky. Šanci znovu vybudovat něco z té osoby, kterou jsem bývala, než mě probdělé noci a nekonečné batolecí záchvaty vzteku vyprázdnily. Budova mě donutila cítit se malou hned, jakmile jsem vstoupila dovnitř. Mramorové podlahy, zrcadlové výtahy, zaměstnanci pohybující se s tichou efektivitou v na míru šitých oblecích a sebevědomou chůzí. Zatála jsem se v pomačkaném saku a snažila se stát vzpřímeněji. Všechno na mně působilo nesprávně—ošuntěle, nepatřičně, jako bych se omylem zatoulala do cizího života. Zatímco jsem čekala na HR u recepce, zaslechla jsem poblíž šeptat dvě asistentky. „Slyšela jsi? Xander Hale minulý týden odmítl tři kandidáty,“ řekla jedna a zavrtěla hlavou. „Tři. Všichni naprosto kvalifikovaní.“ Druhá žena vážně přikývla. „Je nemožné ho uspokojit. Pamatuješ na Sarah? Rozbrečel ji druhý den.“ Vyměnily si znalý pohled a mně se stáhl žaludek. To jméno mi nic neříkalo, ale jejich tón maloval obraz, který se mi nelíbil. Ještě než jsem se stihla ponořit hlouběji do svých myšlenek, přišla HR—žena laskavé tváře jménem Patricia, která se usmívala, jako by to myslela upřímně. „Slečno Carterová? Tudy, prosím. Pan Hale vás už očekává.“ Provedla mě do nejvyššího patra chodbou lemovanou velkými černobílými fotografiemi. Firemní úspěchy. Slavnostní předávání cen. Muži v oblecích, jak si potřásají rukou, přebírají plakety. U jednoho snímku jsem ztuhla uprostřed kroku. Srdce mi bušilo o žebra tak silně, že ho Patricia musela snad slyšet. U pódia stál muž—ostré rysy, tmavé vlasy, neochvějný pohled a známé napětí v čelisti. To tvář jsem znala. Znala jsem ji důvěrně, i když jsem ji viděla jen jednu noc před pěti lety. Cizinec z baru. Muž, díky kterému jsem se poprvé v životě cítila viděná a chtěná. Který zmizel dřív, než přišlo ráno, zanechal jen falešné jméno a nefunkční telefonní číslo. Který mi dal Ninu a Lisu, aniž by o tom kdy věděl. „Slečno Carterová?“ Patricia se ohlédla, v obličeji jí probleskla starost. „Je všechno v pořádku?“ Nasadila jsem nucený úsměv a odtrhla pohled od fotografie. „Ano. Promiňte. Jen… obdivuji výzdobu.“ Musím působit směšně. Muži jako on – neupravení, okouzlující cizinci v barech – se nestávali miliardářskými generálními řediteli. Byla to jen podoba. Svět byl plný tmavovlasých mužů s intenzivním pohledem. Neznamenalo to nic. Nebo ano? Došly jsme ke kanceláři na rohu. Patricia jednou zaklepala, oznámila mé jméno a odešla s povzbudivým úsměvem. "Pan Hale vás bude instruovat osobně. Hodně štěstí." Dveře za mnou tiše zaklaply. U okna stál muž zády ke mně, s telefonem u ucha. Vysoký. Široká ramena. Drahý oblek. "Nezajímá mě časový rozvrh," řekl, jeho hlas byl tichý a autoritativní. "Zařiďte to." Ten hlas. Hrudník se mi stáhl. Ten hlas jsem znala. Slyšela jsem, jak šeptá mé jméno v tmavém hotelovém pokoji, cítila jsem, jak mi vibruje na kůži. Ukončil hovor a pomalu se otočil. Když se naše oči setkaly, čas se zdál zastavit. Byl to rozhodně on, bez pochyb. Starší, ostřejší, strniště vystřídaly čisté linie a aura moci, kterou jsem předtím neviděla. Ale byl to nepochybně on. Ty samé tmavé oči. Ta samá intenzita, která mi kdysi dávala pocit, že jsem jediná žena na světě. Překvapení problesklo v jeho tváři – trhlina v uhlazené masce, vteřinová a hned pryč. Ale postřehla jsem ji. Mírné rozšíření očí, téměř nepostřehnutelné pootevření rtů, jak jeho tělo zcela ztuhlo jako predátor, který právě zahlédl ve svém teritoriu něco nečekaného. Udělal krok vpřed a já musela bojovat s nutkáním ustoupit. Studioval mou tvář s neklidným soustředěním – jeho pohled sledoval mé rysy, jako by je porovnával s nějakou vzpomínkou, zapisoval si každý detail. Linii mé čelisti. Tvar mých úst. Oči, které se na něj kdysi dívaly v tlumeném světle hotelového pokoje před pěti lety… "Už jsme se... někdy potkali?" zeptal se. V ústech mi vyschlo. Ale zůstala jsem stát, s bušícím srdcem, když mě pravda zasáhla jako vlna. Můj potenciální šéf byl otcem mých dětí. Panebože?! 😱 Přečtěte si Dvě malá tajemství od mého šéfa a zjistěte, co bude dál! 🔥👔

I was just a single mom trying to survive—raising my twin girls alone, juggling daycare drop-offs and overdue bills 💔. Then I landed my dream job… and came face-to-face with my new boss: Xander Hale, the billionaire CEO who vanished after one unforgettable night five years ago 🔥. The man who never knew I was pregnant. The man who never knew he had daughters. Now I work for him every day, hiding the truth that could destroy everything—my career, my stability, my heart ❤️‍🔥. Because if Xander finds out my twins are his… I don’t know if he’ll save us—or take them from me 💔. Chapter 1 [POV Daphne] The morning started falling apart before I even properly opened my eyes. "Mommy, let’s make pancakes!" Nina's voice pierced through the apartment like a fire alarm. I found her in the kitchen rummaging through drawers. "We don't have time for pancakes today. Today is Mommy's big day with an interview for her new job, remember? I told you about it last night." "I don't care about your job." She stuck out her lower lip. "I want pancakes!" Before I could respond, Lisa appeared in the doorway, her face crumpled with distress. "Mommy, I can't find my purple shoes. I need my purple shoes." "What about your pink ones? The pink ones are pretty." "No!" Lisa's eyes welled with tears. "Only purple. Purple is my lucky color." I glanced at the clock on the near wall. Forty-five minutes until I needed to walk through those office doors. Forty-five minutes to feed two stubborn four-year-olds, get them dressed, drive across the city, and somehow look like a competent professional worthy of being hired. "Okay. Okay, let me find the shoes." I dropped to my knees and peered under the couch. One purple shoe, covered in dust bunnies. I searched the living room, the girls' bedroom, under their beds. Nothing. Nina was now actively flicking oatmeal onto the table with her spoon. I pretended not to see it because I didn't have time for that battle. The bathroom. Why the bathroom? But there it was—the second purple shoe, sitting inexplicably next to the toilet. I was on my knees reaching for it when Lisa's quiet voice stopped me cold. "Mommy, why don't we have a daddy like other kids?" My hand froze on the shoe. The question hung in the air, innocent and devastating—a knife slipped between my ribs with the gentleness only a four-year-old could manage. I turned to find her standing in the doorway, thumb hovering near her mouth, dark eyes wide and earnest. Eyes that looked exactly like someone else's. "What do you mean, baby?" My voice came out steadier than I expected. "Emma at daycare has a daddy. And Sophie." Lisa's lower lip trembled. "But we don't. Did our daddy not want us?" The words hit me like a physical blow. How could I possibly explain that to her? How to explain something I don’t know myself? He probably didn’t want me, because he left too early to even get to know about our girls. I pulled her into my arms, pressing my lips against her dark hair, breathing through the ache in my chest. "Our family is perfect just the way it is," I whispered. "Mommy loves you and Nina enough for a hundred parents. You know that, right?" Lisa nodded against my shoulder, small fingers clutching my shirt. "I know, Mommy." But the question lingered in my chest like a bruise as I helped her into the purple shoes. I heard a crash from the kitchen. My coffee mug. My full coffee mug, knocked over by Nina's flailing arm during her oatmeal protest, now spreading a brown river across the counter and down the front of my carefully chosen white blouse. I stood there for a moment, coffee dripping onto my shoes, and reminded myself that crying wouldn't help. "Mommy, you're messy," Nina observed. "Yes. Thank you, Nina. I noticed." The backup outfit, a slightly wrinkled gray blazer and black pants I'd meant to iron but never got around to, would have to do. I changed in three minutes flat, wrestled both girls into their jackets, and somehow got them buckled into their car seats only twenty minutes behind schedule. "Mommy, why are you driving so fast?" Lisa asked from the backseat. "I'm not driving fast, baby. I'm driving efficiently." "What's efficiently?" "It means Mommy's trying not to lose her mind." I dropped them at daycare with rushed kisses and promises to pick them up right on time. Five years of this—five years of being everything to them, of stretching myself so thin I'd forgotten what it felt like to be whole. But this job could change things. This job meant stability. A real paycheck instead of scraping by on freelance projects that barely covered rent. Health insurance for the girls. A chance to rebuild something of the person I used to be before sleepless nights and endless toddler tantrums hollowed me out. The building made me feel small the moment I stepped inside. Marble floors, mirrored elevators, employees moving with quiet efficiency in their tailored clothes and confident strides. I tugged at my wrinkled blazer and tried to stand taller. Everything about me felt wrong—shabby, out of place, like I'd wandered into someone else's life by mistake. While waiting for HR near the reception desk, I overheard two assistants whispering nearby. "Did you hear? Xander Hale rejected three candidates last week," one said, shaking her head. "Three. All perfectly qualified." The other woman nodded gravely. "He's impossible to please. Remember Sarah? He made her cry on her second day." They exchanged knowing looks, and my stomach tightened. The name meant nothing to me, but their tone painted a picture I didn't like. HR arrived before I could spiral further—a kind-faced woman named Patricia who smiled like she meant it. "Ms. Carter? Right this way. Mr. Hale is expecting you." She led me to the top floor through a corridor lined with large black-and-white photographs. Corporate achievements. Award ceremonies. Men in suits shaking hands, accepting plaques. One image made me freeze mid-step. My heart slammed against my ribs so hard I thought Patricia must have heard it. A man stood at a podium—sharp features, dark hair, an unwavering stare, and a familiar tension in his jaw. I knew that face. I knew it intimately, even though I'd only seen it for one night five years ago. The stranger from the bar. The man who'd made me feel seen and wanted for the first time in my life. Who'd vanished before morning, leaving only a fake name and a phone number that didn't work. Who'd given me Nina and Lisa without ever knowing it. "Ms. Carter?" Patricia glanced back, concern flickering across her face. "Everything alright?" I forced a smile, tearing my eyes away from the photograph. "Fine. Sorry. Just… admiring the décor." I must being ridiculous. Men like him, scruffy, charming strangers in bars, didn't become billionaire CEOs. It was just a resemblance. The world was full of dark-haired men with intense eyes. It didn't mean anything. Right? We reached the corner office. Patricia knocked once, announced my name, and left with an encouraging smile. "Mr. Hale will brief you personally. Good luck." The door clicked shut behind me. A man stood at the window with his back to me, phone pressed to his ear. Tall. Broad shoulders. Expensive suit. "I don't care about the timeline," he said, his voice low and commanding. "Make it happen." That voice. My chest tightened. I knew that voice. I'd heard it whisper my name in a dark hotel room, had felt it rumble against my skin. He ended the call and turned slowly. When our eyes met, time seemed to stop. It was definitely him, no doubts. Older now, sharper, the scruff replaced by clean lines and an aura of power I hadn't seen before. But unmistakably him. The same dark eyes. The same intensity that once made me feel like the only woman in the world. Surprise flickered across his features—a crack in the polished facade, there and gone in the space of a heartbeat. But I caught it. The slight widening of his eyes, the almost imperceptible parting of his lips, the way his body went completely still like a predator who'd just spotted something unexpected in his territory. He stepped forward, and I had to fight the urge to step back. He studied my face with unsettling focus—his gaze tracing my features like he was comparing them to a memory, cataloging every detail. The line of my jaw. The shape of my mouth. The eyes that had looked up at him in a dim hotel room five years ago… "Have we... met before?" he asked. My mouth went dry. But I stood frozen, heart pounding, as the truth crashed over me like a wave. My potential boss was the father of my children. Oh my God?! 😱 Read Two Little Secrets From My Boss to know what happens next! 🔥👔

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