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Since she was held by the neck, Damia couldn’t fight back, instead, she shot Cesare, her fiercest glare pushing out her panic with outrage. This was absolutely ridiculous.
Originally Cesare should have had no status—he was a liability that her stepmother brought in. Instead, Damia was in charge of all the mansion’s internal affairs, replacing her absent father. Cesare, a completely unrelated person to the Count of Primula, should have had no space nor power to intervene in her affairs.
But Cesare cleverly established his place outside the family. Over the years, he took over the social world by bringing in young northern aristocrats to his side and setting up some small businesses using his personal connections.
Damia’s father, a businessman, encouraged his stepson’s efforts and, while underestimating him, bestowed many favors upon him. And Cesare was now repaying her family’s favor as an enemy.
‘How do I get out of his grasp?’
Damia desperately swirled her head and glared at Cesare. Cesare smiled as if he was pleased and flattered to monopolize her attention. It seemed so sincere Damia felt even more disgusted.
“Listen to me, Damia. You’re also part of the proud Count Primula of the North. Unlike the south, which suffers from pollution, our north is thriving under the Temple’s protection. But nothing good will come about by playing with a royal dog like Akkard Valerian.”
Cesare’s tone actually resembled a concerned blood-related brother’s voice and momentarily stunned an unprepared Damia. She frowned and tried to understand his words.
‘What’s this? Is the Temple involved… ..in Cesare’s work?’
And presumably, the Akkard was, probably, standing at a counterpoint—against him. Cesare’s face, who dared to “advise” Damia, was overflowing with unclothed obsession. But apart from that, his blue eyes remained rational.
‘He is not just saying this because he is jealous of Akkard.’
Damia became more anxious as more questions came up. She wanted to provoke and dig up more information from Cesare but couldn’t because she was being strangled.
On the other hand, Cesare seemed very smug because he poured out as much bullshit nonsense as he desired. Cesare stroked Damia’s cheek with his other hand not on her neck and whispered affectionately.
“Are you so concerned about Cecil Evergreen? Then choose me, Damia, because if you’re also on my side, all difficulties will be solved.”
Cesare’s face was close to the tip of her nose, willing her to choose him. At the same time, his grip on Damia’s neck tightened; a silent but loud threat.
Damia clenched her teeth. Her vocal cords that were crushed by his intense fingertips hurt, and now she was running out of breath but her anger and outrage outweighed her suffering—she would never succumb to Cesare’s threats!
So she managed to squeeze out a verbal protest like an underdog cornered.
Damia scratched the back of Cesare’s hand that was clenching her neck and gasping pitifully. She couldn’t breathe, her delicate face turning red as if she were about to burst, her veins standing blue on my neck. She was on the verge of suffocation.
“What’s wrong, Damia?”
After seeing this, Cesare’s hand became reflexively loose. He miscalculated his strength.
Damia took the opportunity and quickly flipped her shoulders. Unable to keep up with her momentary struggle, Cesare’s hand slipped from her neck. Damia finally escaped from his grasp and shouted as loud as she could.
“Save me! Somebody help me!”