Rosatene's panicked gaze pierced into Silver once more like needles, while the jester remained immersed in his silent malice, stroking his slapped cheek with sick pleasure. His yellow eyes gleamed beneath the mask with a fiendish glow, declaring his crushing victory. At that moment, Rosatene did not see mere clown; she saw the abyss into which she had thrown herself... just one night ago.
Just one night ago—
The atmosphere in Rosatene's private suite was charged with a muffled, simmering tension. The moment Evangeline closed the door behind her and left, the room transformed into a cold war zone. Rosatene paced back and forth with frantic steps, like a madwoman, the veins on her forehead on the verge of bursting from the sheer annoyance and rage left behind by her younger sister's sharp words.
On the velvet sofa sat her husband, Mr. Joseph, completely cold, watching her hysterical movements with eyes full of weariness. He exhaled in annoyance and said in a dry tone:
