As usual, Peter Hester was merciless and sharp-tongued.

Sylvia Newton was burning with embarrassment and rage. She jabbed a finger at him, ready to unleash a tirade, but having spent so long cultivating her “graceful lady” persona, she suddenly couldn’t find the right words.

In the end, she spat out a single, sharp insult:

“Peter, you jerk!”

Peter smirked, completely unfazed.

“Rebound.”

“You—!”

Sylvia’s fury boiled over, and tears streamed down her face. Usually, her pitiful little-girl look might win sympathy, but now, covered in grime and blackened by paint, she looked anything but helpless or cute.

Peter’s sarcasm sharpened further.

“Go cry somewhere else, you’re so ugly it’s ruining...