"Crazy! Crazy! Who are you calling crazy?! You little brat, sneaking around eating other people's dishes and calling others crazy? I think you're the one who needs a beating!"
"Oh mom, take it easy, Michael is getting an IV. If you hit him too hard, the needle might slip!"
Debby hurriedly stopped the Old Madam, at a loss for words.
She looked at Michael with some reproach.
"Tell me, this brat blamed Isabella for everything. Shouldn't he get a beating?!"
Debby had no choice but to nod, "...He should."
Indeed, it was excessive, like a thief stealing something and then justifying it.
Who steals and then complains about the quality, anyway?
Isabella blinked in confusion, momentarily at a loss.
This isn't how things were supposed to unfold, was it?
Wasn't it supposed to be her fault?
Though the Old Madam was angry, she did not continue with the hitting.
"This little brat is utterly detestable, squandering a good girl like Isabella!"
