?Chapter 407:


    Even though Breck spoke with a slow, calm voice, there was a threat lurking in every word.


    Katelyn didn’t blink. Her face stayed cold and unmoved as she replied, “As I’ve already told you, threatening me won’t work on Vincent. To him, I’m just a useful employee. Since when does a bosspromise because of a worker?”


    She couldn’t understand how Breck thought this n would work.


    Her rtionship with Vincent was friendly but mostly professional.


    Besides, she knew Vincent well enough to know he hated lies and ckmail.


    Instead of getting angry, Breck smiled. The grin spread across his face as if Katelyn’s defiance amused him. He raised a finger, wagging it slowly, as if scolding her like a child.


    “Miss Bailey, you don’t seem to understand how men think. How about we make a bet? I’ve already let Vincent know about your little problem. We’ll see soon enough if you really mean nothing to him.”


    “If he does show up, it won’t be to fall for your shameless tricks,” Katelyn said, her voice calm, filled with quiet certainty.


    Vincent wasn’t the type to back down just because Breck tried to scare him.


    Katelyn never fooled herself about her importance to Vincent. She knew she was just another employee, clear about her role and limits.


    Breck’s face twitched for a split second, but he quickly returned to his usual casual look.


    “Well then, I guess selling you as a ve will do. It’s the perfect way to cheer my daughter. That’s all you’re good for now.”


    Heughed as he spoke, pulling out a pile of photos and tossing them across the table toward her.


    “You probably don’t really understand what it means to be a ve here, Miss Bailey. They’re not even seen as human—just filthy, worthless property. Their lives and deaths are controlled entirely by their owners.”


    Katelyn hesitated before picking up one of the photos, feeling a sickening twist in her gut as she saw the horrific image.


    It showed a person, barely alive, beaten beyond recognition and lying helpless on the ground.


    The person was stripped, their body covered in burns, deep cuts, and brutal scars.


    The word “ve” took on a whole new level of horror—reduced to nothing, like insects crushed underfoot, existing only for someone else’s cruel pleasure. The other photos were just as awful, each one showing ves pushed to the edge of death.<fnc802> The rightful source is find·novel</fnc802>


    Katelyn’s anger ignited in her eyes, burning with intensity. These were real people—living, breathing, and suffering. How could anyone’s life be so easily torn apart just because these people held power and privilege and wanted some twisted version of fun?


    Katelyn understood the harshness of social ss, but seeing these photos still cut deep, leaving her shaken.


    The world wasn’t fair, and there were ces where darkness hid, far from the peaceful image most people saw.


    She was no saint, and she couldn’t help everyone she met; but one photo caught her attention—a ve with eyes so full of hopelessness that it seemed death was the only way out.


    Photos could hold feelings, and the ones in her hands were filled with too much pain for her to bear.


    Without thinking twice, she ripped the photos into tiny pieces, letting them fall around the room like scattered snowkes.


    Her gaze bore into Breck, sharp and unyielding. The idea of a ve was nothing more than a cruel toy for these so-called aristocrats.


    To Katelyn, people like them deserved every ounce of suffering, a thousand times over.


    “Are you showing me these to brag about how twisted your noble games are, or to scare me into thinking I’ll end up like them?” Katelyn asked, her tone sharp and unwavering.


    A few guards, riled up by her defiance, started to move in, but Breck waved them off with a simple gesture. He chuckled lightly.


    “How could I send someone as stunning as you to such misery?”


    Leisurely, Breck bent down, picking up the scattered photo pieces. He pulled a sleek, ck lighter from his pocket, flicked it open, and set the scraps aze. The hopeless eyes of the ve in the picture disappeared in a swirl of ash.


    “But my patience is running thin,” Breck added, his voice hardening. Just then, a man rushed into the room, announcing, “My Lord, Mr. Adams is here.”


    .


    .


    .