Chapter 13: The Cost of Marrying a Slut
Damon kicked his sister away from Charlotte and then helped her to her feet. He stroked her hair gently, as if trying to take away the pain.
"Are you hurt?" Damon asked worriedly.
Charlotte grimaced as she touched the bruises on her arms. The golf club had left a red line on her pale skin, reminding her of the bruises Julian often gave her.
"I’m fine. It will fade soon," Charlotte reassured him.
Priscilla stood up and laughed at her. "Don’t pretend you’re innocent! You are the one who hurt my son’s feelings!"
Charlotte glared at her. She felt disgusted by her mother-in-law, especially since she had always blindly defended Julian.
"Your son has abused me more than a hundred times," Charlotte said coldly, "but you never wanted to admit it. Now you call me a slut, but the truth is that your son is the one who acts like a slut."
He had spread his pheromone all over town, letting so many women use his tiny dick.
If Priscilla wanted to insult someone, she should have insulted her own son first.
"Don’t make up things that aren’t true!" Priscilla snapped at her, "and what is wrong with a little slapping or spanking? It’s called discipline! He wouldn’t do it if you could behave!"
Charlotte clenched her fists and didn’t understand how she could consider violence a normal thing?