"Daddy, stop hitting him, big brother's face looks terrible..."
Even Little Yanna walked over and tugged at Aidan Lucas's suit hem.
The man, burning with rage, had bloodshot eyes full of hostility. Any other little girl would have already run off in fright; only Yana dared to come up and grab his clothes.
Aidan Lucas lifted his cold gaze toward Ben Lucas, who was kneeling behind Lily, silent and not begging for mercy.
Seeing his eldest son's thin lips drained of all color, a fine layer of cold sweat covering his forehead in this dead of winter, his face looking indescribably bad, the blood-red in Aidan Lucas's black pupils gradually faded.
