Chapter 917

“How is that possible? This place is crawling with your people,” Debra said, taking a couple of steps forward. She caught a glimpse of a black car about 100 meters away. It was Marion, and she felt reassured.

According to tradition, Drake put a masquerade mask on Debra and wore a half-mask on his face. Debra braced herself as they entered the gala. She had been to one such event before, so she wasn’t as shocked this time.

Drake said, “Hold onto my arm tightly, or I can guarantee your safety.” His words put Debra on high alert.

Inside the venue, everything seemed normal at first, but she noticed that all the guests were men. There were no women, and the men were eyeing her lustfully. This made her uncomfortable, and she tightened her grip on Drake’s arm.

Across town at the Eaton Mansion, Juan watched as Garland struggled to do a handstand against the wall. Garland’s face was flushed red as he groaned, “Are we done yet?”

“Not yet.”

“How much longer?”

“Three more hours.”

Garland collapsed onto the floor like a deflated balloon. “I can’t do this anymore. My dad asked you to teach me finance, not PE. My arms are going to be thicker than my legs at this rate.” He rubbed his sore arms and declared, “I quit.”

“In that case, I’ll just have to whip you,” Juan said, standing up and revealing a whip in his hand.

Garland panicked. He knew Juan wasn’t bluffing. He had felt the sting of the whip the day before, and he couldn’t take another lashing.

“Wait, this is my house. Put that thing down,” Garland stammered, but his warnings fell on deaf ears. As Juan raised his hand, Garland quickly surrendered. “I’m sorry. I was wrong, okay?”

Chapter 917

Juan ordered, “Now go read your books.”

“Alright, sure,” Garland agreed, holding a pillow in front of him for protection. He sat down on the sofa and grumbled, “Who uses a whip to make someone study? This isn’t ancient times. Don’t I have human rights?”

Juan remained silent.

Garland added, “I got whipped yesterday, and it still hurts. My back is all bruised up.”

“Does it hurt? I think it’s fine,” Juan said dismissively.

“Easy for you to say. You’re not the one getting whipped,” Garland retorted.

Juan stood up and started to unbutton his shirt. Garland freaked out. “What are you doing? Put your clothes back on. Don’t pull this stuff with me. I’m straight.”

He stopped mid-sentence as his eyes fell on the dense scars on Juan’s back—all marks left by a whip. Garland was astounded, unable to imagine the pain of being whipped like that.

Juan put his clothes back on and buttoned his shirt. “If I can endure it, so can you.”

“Did that old witch do this to you?” Garland asked, referring to Melody.