Ever since Ryan died, Czarina had been left with severe psychological problems.
She would break down without warning.
And every time, Oliver expected me to give way.
The last time she wanted the earrings my mother left me, I refused. I lost my temper.
The next day, the entire house was filled with flowers—so many that my asthma flared up.
I clutched the hem of Oliver's trousers, gasping, begging him for my inhaler.
He merely looked down at me, towering like a judge from above.
"Now you know how much pain Czarina feels when she has an episode."
Before Czarina even took the bracelet, she gasped and stumbled backward.
The jade slammed into the floor—scattering into countless shimmering shards.
Her eyes turned red immediately. "I know you hate me. I know Mom only liked you. Even though your background can't compare with mine, she was still willing to give you thirty million just to marry Oliver."
"But what about me? I'm sick too. Who's going to bring Ryan back to me?!"
She grabbed my collar. The sharp tips of her manicured nails sliced across my cheek, leaving thin bloody marks.
Oliver pulled her into his arms.
She collapsed against him, sobbing hysterically.
"Get out," he said.