Chapter 1393:
“Say it!” His gaze was a knife, piercing Millie with pure malice.
“Say you’re a worthless bitch! Say you’re not even half as valuable as Vivian! Say it—you’re nothing but a complete disgrace!”
Millie didn’t speak right away. Instead, she lifted her gaze and studied Macauley with quiet intensity, as if memorizing every twitch of fury twisting his features. He trembled with agitation, the gun barrel wavering even as it remained trained on Ari.
“Say it! Damn it!” Macauley lunged forward. His hand clamped around Millie’s throat—hot, merciless.
“Weren’t you always so proud?” His fingers dug in deeper, rage tightening through his entire frame.
“Weren’t you the one who mocked Vivian’s methods? Weren’t they too crude for someone like you?”
Grinding his teeth, he spat each word straight into her face.
“Let me tell you something. Vivian is the sharpest mind I have ever known. You and Brandon were almost fooled by her. She nearly won.”
Millie struggled for breath beneath his crushing grip. Each inhale came as a broken rasp, her windpipe squeezed to the brink.
“Say it!” Macauley snarled.
“Say you are nothing compared to her!”
At the command, Millie lowered her gaze—not in submission, but in calculation.
In a calm, airy whisper, she said, “I, Millie Bennett, am nothing compared to Vivian. She is the only person in your heart. I am merely a worthless obstacle standing in the way of your fortune.”
“Say it again!”
Millie’s expression stayed utterly blank as she repeated, “I am nothing compared to Vivian. I am just a worthless bitch.”
“Hahaha!” Macauley burst into manic laughter, his shoulders shaking as the sound roared through the factory.
“Vivian, did you hear that? She admits she’s a worthless bitch! I defended you!”
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His shouting grew louder, trying to drown out Brandon’s voice echoing from somewhere outside.
Millie lifted her eyes once more.
And she saw it—the arrogance swelling in Macauley’s posture, his attention splitting, his wrist loosening. The gun dipped a fraction.
Now.
Millie exploded upward with everything her battered body had left. She slammed into Macauley, her fingers clawing for his face.
He stumbled backward, caught off guard, and for one precious heartbeat, his control slipped.
The gun fired.
“Bang!”
Because Millie had knocked him aside, the bullet vanished uselessly into a distant wall—far from Ari.
Before Macauley could even process what had happened, Millie snatched a jagged shard of porcelain from the ground and drove it toward his eyes.
He jerked away on instinct, barely avoiding blindness, but the shard carved a brutal gash down his face.
Blood poured from the split, dividing his expression—wild, furious eyes above, a ravaged red smear below.
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.
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