The mention of Roscoe’s name again made Jarrod turned frosty. He tapped his fingers on the table, his voice cold as he warned, “I’ll say this one last time. Eat your meal, or else…”
He stood up and walked over to Nicole, towering over her. “I wouldn’t mind feeding you myself.”
“I eat, and then you let me see Roscoe?” Nicole asked, taking a step back with a hint of caution. “Can I trust you, Jarrod?”
Jarrod let out a mocking laugh. “Do I really have no credibility in your eyes?”
“Not an ounce,” Nicole answered plainly. After all, Jarrod was always unpredictable.
Jarrod chided her, “Nicole, can’t you be a bit fairer?”
Jarrod lightly pinched her chin, examining her face before chuckling.
“At least I’m not like you, trying to poison me. One minute you’re sweet, the next, you’re a traitor.”
He was alluding to the time when he was stabbed, and despite her hidden motives, Nicole had tended to him.
Jarrod was shrewd, always conscious of Nicole’s numerous plots against him. In the end, Nicole didn’t bring herself to poison him, perhaps due to her conscience.
Nicole disliked his touch. It felt either too aggressive or too personal. She moved to the table and finished a bowl of porridge.
After a day filled with hunger and drinking, the porridge soothed her stomach remarkably. Nicole’s complexion gained some color. She lifted the lid to serve herself another bowl, planning to finish it off.
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Just as she was about to eat, Jarrod stopped her. “No more,” he said, his voice tinged with disapproval as he took the bowl from her.
“Your stomach can’t handle too much at once.”
It was no secret to Jarrod that Nicole had had part of her stomach removed.
However, it was unexpected how his voice seemed to carry a hint of concern. Under normal circumstances, he would probably be livid at her. When something didn’t seem right, it usually meant something was off. Nicole couldn’t shake off a deep-seated unease about why Jarrod was being so composed.
Yet, her unease was short-lived, as things soon became clearer.
Jarrod suggested, “Now that you’re full, how about a show to help with digestion?”
As Jarrod smiled meaningfully, Nicole’s sense of alarm deepened.
“Whoosh!” The curtains in the hall drew back automatically. Behind them, a clear glass wall offered a full view of the room beyond.
There, Nicole saw Roscoe, who had been missing since the previous day.
He was huddled in a corner, bound by a thick, long chain. His clothes were torn and bloodied, hanging in tatters, and his knees looked severely damaged, revealing the bone beneath.
Even in that state, the torture went on without stopping.
Beside Roscoe, a shirtless bodyguard dressed in black swung a metal chain with relentless force.