Quentin Grant tightened his grip slightly, making her ache with pain.
"You've been working here for a long time, haven't you?"
"About four or five years."
"No wonder," Quentin Grant said. With a sharp twist of his hand, Yvonne shrieked as her jaw popped out of its socket.
Her mouth hung open, unable to close, as drool streamed down her chin.
"Argle… mmmph…" Yvonne tried to say something, but no one could understand her.
Quentin Grant turned to the butler. "Settle her accounts. Dock half a month's pay as compensation for Miss Ainsworth's emotional distress. You failed to supervise her properly, so you'll be docked half a month's pay as well."
Although the butler was pained by the loss of money, he was also relieved. 'At least it's better than getting fired.'
