Reborn Rich: Prices Dropped, My Savings Didn't novel Chapter 187

Chapter 187: Chapter 185: Which Hand Touched My Sister?

Cecilia Sterling’s terrifying gaze and cold aura sent a jolt of fear through Henry Marshall. He instinctively turned his head to look at his father.

Winston Marshall was also stunned by their barbaric "entrance," but as a man who’d weathered many storms, he remained unflinching. His face darkened as he snapped, "Who are you people!"

Others might not have recognized Cecilia Sterling, but James Lockwood and Connie did. Her sudden appearance was a genuine surprise to James Lockwood, catching him completely off guard.

"Miss Ster—"

James Lockwood was just about to speak, but Cecilia Sterling had already locked her sights on Henry Marshall. She strode quickly over to him and, raising her hand, delivered a sharp slap.

SLAP!

The sound was crisp and loud, leaving a fresh red handprint on Henry Marshall’s fair face.

Henry Marshall’s head was turned slightly to the side, his eyes filled with disbelief.

’He’d never been slapped in his entire life, yet today, it had happened three times?’

Winston Marshall was right beside them. Snapping out of his stupor, he moved to intervene. "How dare you—"

But before he could even raise his arm, the men Cecilia Sterling had brought with her grabbed him on either side and forced him down onto the sofa. Cecilia Sterling shot him a sideways glance and said coldly, "How dare I? I’d rather ask how *you* dared!"

With that, she gave Duane a meaningful look.

Without a word, Duane stepped forward, grabbed a handful of Henry Marshall’s hair, and with a vicious tug, flung him aside.

Henry Marshall staggered, lost his balance, and crashed humiliatingly to the floor. His chin slammed into the ground, instantly drawing blood. The hard impact left his head ringing.

Seeing his son assaulted, Winston Marshall’s eyes went bloodshot. He struggled and roared, "Don’t you touch him! Do you have any idea who I am?!"

James Lockwood finally snapped out of it and hurried forward to mediate. "Miss... Miss Sterling, let’s talk this out calmly. There’s no need for violence."

But Cecilia Sterling paid James Lockwood no mind, instead walking step by step toward Henry Marshall, who was sprawled on the floor.

CLACK!

CLACK!

CLACK!

The sound of high heels on the concrete floor, each clack radiating immense pressure. Pinned to the ground with Duane’s knee in his back, unable to move, Henry Marshall finally felt a sliver of true fear welling up inside him.

’Who were these people?’

’Weren’t they gangsters?’

The tips of a pair of red high heels came to a stop right in front of him. Lying on the floor, he had to strain his neck just to look up at Cecilia Sterling’s face.

Cecilia Sterling tilted her head slightly, her expression faint but tinged with a chilling cold.

"Which hand did you use to touch my sister?"

It was such a classic line. In the movies, whenever someone asked that, it meant someone was about to lose a hand.

And judging by their ruthless demeanor, these people were clearly not joking.

Henry Marshall was terrified. His eyes darted around in panic and his lips trembled as he cried for help, "Dad! Dad! Save me, Dad!"

"What do you want?" Winston Marshall was growing nervous, too, but he maintained a calm facade. He looked at Cecilia Sterling, swallowing his humiliation and rage. "If you hurt him, I won’t let this go. I don’t care who you are, I will fight you to the death!"

Cecilia Sterling didn’t doubt for a second that he meant it, saying such words for his son.

’But wasn’t she here for her own sister?’

She slowly crouched down, looked into Henry Marshall’s terrified eyes, and asked again, "Which hand did you use to touch my sister?"

"Who... who’s your sister?" Henry Marshall asked, his voice hoarse.

"Lily Sterling."

VERIFYCAPTCHA_LABELVerify