"No, I can't hold it anymore. Francesca, you're mine, and mine alone…"

With a guttural roar, like a wild beast, Simon lunged forward.

Francesca silently screamed in her mind, "No!" Tears streamed down her face uncontrollably. At that moment, she recalled the time when she was still afflicted with her condition, a state that had made her incapable of intimacy.

Back then, she had been grateful when Andrew had cured her, giving her the chance to experience love and the hope of family life. But at that moment, she regretted it.

If this was how it would all end, Francesca wished she had remained the way she was—untouched, and unable to be violated.

Suddenly, the solid wooden wall of the grand hall exploded into splinters. Andrew stepped through the debris, lowering his leg, his face dark and menacing.

"Stripping down naked in broad daylight and drugging your junior? Simon, are you performing some avant-garde performance art here?" Andrew sneered as he moved to block Franc