Chapter 341: Chapter 340: Thinking of Annabelle Linton
But her words had no effect. Leona Grant only drove faster.
He was going so fast that if they hit anything, they would both die without a doubt.
The Princess couldn’t stop wailing, "Stop! Stop the car! I’m begging you, stop, STOP—!"
"SCREECH—"
The car stopped instantly. Because she wasn’t wearing a seatbelt, her entire body lurched forward, and her head slammed hard against the car window, drawing blood.
Becky’s legs were still weak, and before she could recover from the shock, she was viciously dragged out of the car.
After Leona Grant dragged her out, he showed no mercy just because she was a woman. He threw her forcefully to the ground, his face a mask of cold, murderous intent as he looked down on her.
"If you don’t understand what ’rules’ are, then I’ll teach you."
"Whether she’s ungrateful, shameless, or just has something wrong with her brain and eyes—I don’t know. But you... you’re a complete disgrace to all women. The very sight of you is so nauseating it makes people lump you in with filthy flies."
"She is the person I love. Even if she were at her worst, I wouldn’t tolerate anyone gossiping about her. And besides..." He gave a scornful laugh, his cold eyes glinting. "You aren’t even worthy of carrying her shoes. What gives you the right to talk about her?"
Becky was so terrified by the whole ordeal that her legs were too weak to stand. She shouted in fury, "Do you have any idea who I am? I’m a princess! Cross me, and I’ll make sure you can’t survive here, believe it or not!"
’A princess?’
’Does she really think she’s some big shot?’
Leona Grant knew plenty of royals. For one, there was Prince Kevin of Country S, who was no minor figure himself.
If Leona Grant wanted, he could use his internet company, team up with Kevin, contact the powerful elite in a few other countries, and it would be a trivial matter to dethrone her father. And she had the nerve to act so high and mighty?
The only reason Becky had even come to Leona Grant’s press conference today was to represent her father and curry favor with him.
"Then by all means, I welcome you to try and make it so I ’can’t survive here.’ You should be thankful your so-called ’princess’ status is the only thing keeping you from dying. Otherwise, this day next year would be the anniversary of your death."
After speaking coldly, Leona Grant got back in the car and started the engine.
It was now midnight.
Becky looked around and found herself in a desolate, deserted cemetery.
Not a public cemetery.
It was the kind of place for those who couldn’t afford a burial plot in the city—people who had died in wars and were simply buried wherever.
All around were tombstones of all kinds. Some had fallen over, and some were still stained with blood.
The area was overgrown with weeds, and the narrow path was nothing but sand and dirt.
A howling wind sent a chill down her spine. She thought she could faintly hear the sound of crying.
She had recently been watching horror movies, and this scene was eerily similar.
In a place like this, she didn’t know if running into another person would be a good thing or a bad thing.
Terrified, Becky burst into tears with a loud wail, desperately begging Leona Grant.
Leona Grant didn’t spare her a single glance as he drove off, leaving her in the dust.
But as he drove, he slowly came to a stop.
Because Becky had reminded him of Annabelle Linton.
He had abandoned Annabelle on the side of the road just like this once, all because of Vivian Yates.
But Annabelle had been so much stronger than this woman. She hadn’t cried or thrown a fit; she had only looked at him with sadness in her eyes.
Then, a month after that incident, she changed.
She changed completely.
Remembering it now, Leona Grant’s chest ached with a suffocating pain.
He slumped over the steering wheel, clutching at his heart, feeling once again as if it were being torn in two.
