The remote flew from the second aunt’s hand with a violent throw, smashing against the TV. The screen shattered with a loud crack, and the room fell into a stunned silence. Her husband, who had been standing beside her, flinched, his body trembling with fear, a r who, by all appearances, seed too young to bear that title.
His youthful face, barely showing the signs of age, appeared out of place next to the woman who commanded so much fear. He was no older than 24 or 25, nearly the sa age as her eldest daughter. In fact, to an outsider, he could have easily been mistaken for a sibling rather than a spouse.
He was striking, his beauty delicate and almost ethereal—features that seed better suited for soone who might have been doted upon rather than soone married to the fearso second aunt.
The truth of the matter, one hidden behind closed doors, was that he was her seventh husband. The previous ones had disappeared from her life, so through death, others through mysterious circumstances that were never spoken of again.
The eldest daughter’s father had passed away long ago, leaving a power vacuum that she filled with cruelty. This young man, brought into the fold five years ago, had not fared much better than the others.
Despite his beauty and youth, his spirit seed to have been broken, his vibrant eyes dulled with the weight of the life he’d been forced into. He stood there silently, a hollow figure, watching her te out her wrath as if it were a routine part of life.
His presence was a constant reminder of the second aunt’s insatiable need for control. While his marriage to her was seen as a convenient power move—perhaps a way for her to flaunt her dominance over even the youngest of suitors—it was clear that his role was not one of love or partnership. He, like the others, was a pawn in her intricate ga of manipulation.
Even her eldest daughter, freshly released from jail, stood on the other side of the room, her head bowed in submission. The tension was thick, suffocating, as the second aunt stood there, fists clenched and fury burning in her eyes.
"That bitch," she hissed, pacing back and forth. "Everything I built... all of it, crumbling right in front of !" Her voice was a shriek of disbelief and rage. She grabbed her forehead, her mind spinning as she tried to grasp what had just happened.
For years, even after her daughter had been thrown in jail, she had used her position as second in line within the Aron Group to manipulate and control everything. Her power had been unquestionable, her influence vast. She had played her cards perfectly—on the surface, she smiled and supported Rose Reinguard as the leader of the group. But behind the scenes, she was the puppet master, pulling strings and securing her own power.
But now, it was all collapsing.
"That bitch... how dare she?" she spat again, her anger intensifying. She couldn’t believe that soone like Es, who had always seed passive, had managed to undo everything she’d worked so hard for. Es’s clever move—using Aron’s influence to shift public opinion and weaken her position—was not sothing the second aunt had anticipated. It was a technique she hadn’t seen coming, one that had taken the very foundation of her power and shattered it in an instant.
The second aunt couldn’t help but feel betrayed, not just by Es, but by those within the Aron Group who had once followed her. Many had loyally supported her over Rose Reinguard, believing in her silent but iron grip on the group. And now, those sa people were backing away, swayed by Aron’s public indifference and the shifting dynamics within the company.
She could feel her carefully built empire collapsing around her. All the alliances, the secret deals, the influence she had wielded—it was slipping through her fingers, and she could do nothing but watch as it all fell apart.
Her husband remained silent, too afraid to speak. Her daughter trembled, feeling the weight of her mother’s anger and the failure of their plan.
The second aunt’s anger only deepened as her gaze landed on her husband. His face had turned ashen with fear, trembling under the weight of her fury. She bared her teeth in a feral snarl before storming toward him, her footsteps heavy with purpose. Without a word, she grabbed his hair, her fingers twisting cruelly in his locks as he yelped in pain. He tried to plead, his voice shaking, but it was useless. She dragged him toward the back room, her grip unwavering despite his feeble attempts to resist.
His daughter stood frozen in place, her head bowed, not daring to interfere. She had seen this too many tis to think she could stop it. To challenge her mother was a risk she couldn’t afford to take. As her father was yanked out of the room, the daughter barely flinched, her silence a sign of her deep-rooted fear.
The door slamd shut behind them, sealing him in. Inside the dimly lit room, he crumpled to the ground, trembling uncontrollably. His eyes darted around in desperation, and then they stopped. His heart sank when he saw what her eyes had already fallen upon—the whip hanging ominously on the wall.
"No... please... I’m sorry," he whimpered, his voice cracking as he tried to crawl backward, away from her.
But she was beyond reason, her eyes cold and filled with rage as she reached for the whip. The leather curled in her hand, and with a single, practiced motion, she brought it down on him with a vicious snap. His body jerked violently as pain tore through him. His cries echoed through the walls, desperate and pitiful, but they seed to fall on deaf ears.
Each crack of the whip seed to feed her fury, her movents becoming more erratic and forceful with every swing. His pleas grew weaker, drowned out by the sound of leather striking flesh. Outside the room, the only sounds that escaped were the sharp, rhythmic cracks of the whip and the broken groans of her husband.
And then, after what felt like an eternity, the cries ceased. The room fell into an eerie silence, save for the soft rustling of the whip as she finally stopped.
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