“Simon, do you think you’ll have the last laugh?” I asked.
He shook his head. “Not necessarily, but the person who will compete with me won’t be you.” Then he added, “Zara, you’ve been in jail for three years and somehow you’re even more attractive. Are you sure you don’t want to renew our arrangement?”
I smiled. “You’ll soon find yourself in my shoes.”
Simon was stunned, then recovered and smiled. “If I got you in once, I can do it again.”
I replied, “Simon, why do you think Scarlett doesn’t want to be with you? Isn’t it obvious? Don’t you know why she even talked to you last time?”
Simon seemed irritated, grabbing my throat with his hands. “Shut up! Are you even worthy of mentioning her name?!”
I tilted my head and forced out a smile, squeezing out a hoarse “How pitiful.”
For a moment, I thought I was going to die, but then Simon suddenly let go and smiled at me—a chilling, eerie smile. “Zara, don’t you want to know who Scarlett killed?”
I paused, then asked, “Who?” Simon laughed. “Aren’t you surprised that no one contacted you after you were released? Zara, who is more pitiful between us?”