Chapter 137 Conflict

In the middle of their conversation,

a piece of paper floated out from the store.

Violeta took a step forward, picked it up, and glanced at it. She saw a few words scribbled on it.

Wally Houle most likely wrote it.

At first glance, the writing was truly atrocious.

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Finished

Before, Cyril had criticised Sophia’s writing as mere scribbles. Compared to her writing, Wally would receive a good scolding.

“Whether you agree to sell it or not, you will sell it today!”

A gruff voice emanated from within the shop. Violeta discarded the paper and stepped inside.

Inside, the young asisstant stood in front of Cyril, who was clearly upset. The shop was in disarray, with items scattered and broken everywhere.

The man in his twenties sitting on a chair by the shelves was likely Mr. Wally, the heir of the Houles.

Cyril was stubborn as ever. He declared, “Your handwriting is unworthy of my pens. Even if you beat me to death today, I won’t make a custom pen for you.”

Wally was infuriated by his claim. He retorted, “Fine! You’re still being stubborn? Boys, give him a good beating!”

“Yes, Mr. Wally!”

A few servants stepped forward, raising their fists, ready to beat Cyril.

“Stop it!”

and blocked their path. She said,

was an elderly

Violeta turn to for a

and lowered their fists.

by her beauty. Wally asked,

I am is none of your concern. Is there

leaned back, his eyes appraising her with a hint of amusement.

the law!”

Violeta could

couldn’t find the words to

she had met with such arrogance was Nyla at

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Chapter 137 Conflict

Finished

involve outsiders. He warned Violeta, “You shouldn’t get involved.

by Cyril’s concern that the old

protective side, which changed her opinion

can’t

such big

this old man? Why are you standing up for him? You look quite appealing to me. If you’re his granddaughter or something, maybe if you sweet–talk me,

Violeta furrowed.

No matter how much wealth you

their

called a

enraged. He commanded, “Beat this old man to death! Hit him

“Yes, Mr. Wally!”

charged forward.

wreckage. She swung it left and right,

“Arghh!”

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