Hugo said, “Don’t be scared. With me here, who would dare lay a hand on you? This is what she deserves.”
Once he finished speaking, he led Dorothy’s hand and tipped the basin, letting the boiling water spill over Kiara’s head.
The boiling water instantly damaged her skin. She fell to the ground, her body shaking uncontrollably.
Hugo’s figure slowly faded from her sight as he left with Dorothy.
In the end, love depended on a person’s conscience.
And Hugo had no conscience at all.
When Kiara regained consciousness, it was already the following afternoon.
She had been taken to the hospital. The doctor told her she had third-degree burns and would need a skin transplant.
The most serious injury was on Kiara’s back, leaving her no choice but to lie face down on the bed.
Hugo came before she could decide anything.
The wound was exposed, and he noticed it immediately upon entering, his expression darkening.
She thought he might show some regret, but once again she was mistaken.
He said with disgust, “Kiara, your wound looks disgusting.”
The wound was infected, layered over old scars; of course, it looked disgusting.
Yet Hugo seemed to have forgotten.