Chapter 93: Overbearing (Part 1)

Who was he to her? What right did he have to berate and interrogate her with such humiliation in his voice? She had already explained that she had never slept with Fu Shaoxiu, and if he refused to believe her, she would not utter another word. This man was nothing but an arrogant lunatic, a twisted pervert!

Mu Sicen clamped her jaw, forcing her face toward him, compelling her to meet his gaze.

“Explain.”

His grip was so strong that her jaw felt as though it might shatter beneath his fingers. Just like the time he had gripped her throat—though she couldn’t breathe, she would not beg for mercy, stubborn as an ox.

She stared at him coldly, a sneer curving her lips. “Mr. Mu, who are you to me? What business is it of yours which man I sleep with? Do you think just because you have money, you can do whatever you please to others? Men like you—crude, shameless, depraved bastards—I will never respect you as long as I live!”

Mu Sicen’s face was so dark, it seemed a frost could be scraped from his expression. His black eyes locked onto hers, unyielding. “Woman, are you courting death?”

Nan Zhi met his gaze with a smile, one that on her pale, fragile face was almost blinding. “Young Master Mu, has it been too long since you’ve had a woman, or do you think I resemble someone you once liked? We’ve met only a few times, yet you cling to me like a mad dog. What exactly are you after?”

She had never tried to seduce him, and she had long since explained things clearly. Her attitude was unmistakable—she wanted nothing to do with him. In his domineering presence, she always felt suffocated, unable to breathe.

For the past few days, she thought he had finally let her go, that he’d moved on. Who could have guessed he’d come tonight, drunk and intent on humiliating her yet again?

What had she done to deserve this?

Mu Sicen’s chest tightened at the words “mad dog.” Was it truly he who clung to her like a mad dog? How ironic.

“Woman, you really are a whore!” he spat, sneering. Busy severing all ties with him, yet letting her son approach him. Did she and that little brat think they could summon him at will, dismiss him just as easily?

He laughed coldly and with a forceful sweep of his hand, her nightgown was torn to shreds.

Her skin, smooth and white as jade, was exposed, the pale pink lingerie accentuating her fair, full curves.

Nan Zhi’s cheeks burned crimson as she tried to cover herself, but her hands were bound, her wrists rubbed raw from her desperate struggle.

The exposure filled her with shame and fury.

“Mu Sicen, I have no grievance with you. Why must you treat me this way?”

No matter what she said, he seemed not to hear, only staring at her with those deep, unfathomable black eyes, devoid of warmth.

His gaze swept over every inch of her body, like an X-ray. She was slender, tall, well-proportioned—full where she should be, slim where she ought.

His dark eyes lingered on the rise and fall of her chest.

It would fit perfectly in his palm, he thought—and acted accordingly.

Her struggles intensified. Fear, rejection, confusion—all swirled within her, yet she refused to plead for mercy.

She was the most stubborn woman he had ever met.

“The fiercer the woman, the more she stirs a man’s urge to conquer,” he murmured.

Without another word, he pressed down and crushed her lips beneath his own.

Rage burned in his chest, wild and restless, ever since he’d learned last night that she’d met with the man named Fu.

“Mmm—”

Nan Zhi’s eyes flew open, frantically twisting and struggling beneath him.

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