67 I killed your bitch.

Icy cold winter, a room naturally illuminated by a fire, a man sitting on the cold floor, next to the fireplace, was holding a bottle of beer. He seemed to be intoxicated but still drank it firmly, the beer spilling from his mouth along his neck.

"Young master, Sir told us not to provide you with any more drinks." a low voice of a person sounded.

"Get lost." the man yelled in an extreme anger.

"Sorry, It is our fault." another of the servant pulled him. Master was drinking every day, his temper getting violent day by day. If he grows mad, all of the anger gets poured on the poor servants. Even smacking, slapping and physically assaulting them, were not rare. The maids and servants left the room.

"Tshhh.." a crisp cracking sound was heard.

It must be Sir losing temper over the young master. Hearing the noise, they ran back to the room.But no one dared to step in the room.

A middle-aged man snatched the bottle and smashed it on the floor beside his feet, almost reaching the man's body, but the man did not dodge, continued kneeling. It scratched his foot, bleeding.

"Drinking, What are you sad about? You are out now. Are you sad I killed your bitch?"

The middle-aged man raised a golf club and slammed on his back. Again and again, but no cry or even a sigh was heard. He sat like a statue no sound no expression but sadness reeking from his stance.

Feeling tired the middle-aged man gave up, but the cracking sound continued to be heard. Breaking the vases mirrors all jade pieces middle-aged man vented his anger.

When all sounds finally stopped, the man stooping on the ground let out a soft sigh.

Every time this happens, he stops responding so as to not anger his father anymore.

"Why? Why did you sleep with that girl? You not only destroyed the whole plan but also left proof leading back to you. Fortunately, I aborted the child, mixing some drugs in her food or you were even leaving your seeds behind. How could I have a son like you?"

The girl was Lily who miscarried in the jail, looking at the blood underneath as her breath slowly fastened, gasping and shouting; but no one seems to notice as due to excess blood loss, she collapsed and died. The middle-aged vicious man was James, beating his son, Ryan ruthlessly with a golf club.

Closing his eyes, Ryan remembered the girl, her smile. Yes, he actually didn't love her yet he was sad about her death.

Did she deserve to die?

He always obediently followed his dad's instruction, wishing one day his dad will be proud of him. Though the day never came. Instead, he had to spend many days and nights in jail. He was out now but was it the same. Was he the same?

Hearing no reply, James raised the club again, the door opened. A soft below voice cried: "Please don't hit my son anymore. He won't do it again."

"You stay out of it." pushing her aside, he yelled "If not for him, My Clara would have married Ash. Everything is destroyed."