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... half a minute to put aside her writing brush.

The auctioneer stood by her side all along, watching every move of Aubree Groove.

As Aubree began to write the first character, his eyes slowly widened until they seemed about to bulge out.

People couldn’t see what Aubree wrote, so they could only guess from the auctioneer’s expression, is it written very well, or very poorly?

New novel 𝓬hapters are published on freёwebnoѵel.com.

Presumably the latter, after all ...

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“Now… where should I put you both?” he asked casually, not expecting a reply. “It’s regretful that I only have one chandelier.”

“Underneath my bed? No, no, too dirty. My dust bunnies don’t deserve this,” Atticus mused to himself. “The mantlepiece? How about the vanity table? I suppose if I lop off one of your heads I could mount it over… Wife, which head do you want to stare at while you do your hair?”

“Atticus!” Daphne screamed. “I don’t want any heads! Let them go.”

“Fair enough.” Atticus shrugged, and flicked his fingers.

There were two identical cracks as both necks snapped at once.

Daphne gasped, horrified. This man, her husband, had just killed two men with a flick of his finger, as though he was snuffing out candles.

“I told you to let them go!” Daphne cried out.

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