Dexter

George was still a pain in the ass. Couldn’t he just die like his brother?

And those incompetent dimwits returning to tell me he had escaped or something?

That was a problem I had to handle tomorrow, because tonight I was going to make George's wife mine, and maybe tomorrow I’d move that pregnant maid over here for adequate protection and care. She had killed my pup once—I don't want her doing that again.

Nana was tied up in the corner of my new room, brown aesthetics, something to define my personality.

It seemed like she had struggled so much and now had no power, as she only stared...