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Noosha

Marcellus POV

“Noosha”, I nodded. I looked like shit. My suit and shirt were drenched with twats blood, and my face was spray painted with it. I finally looked like the devil everyone portrayed me to be.

Noosha, the bitch, on the other hand, you would never think that she is my stepmother. She looked more like my younger sister. She looked like she was barely 20, all pampered and pristine.

But fuck that. Not relevant. I was about to close the door, where semiconscious Naevres was still wheezing and gargling, and to walk away, but she grabbed me for the shoulder. I momentarily froze, trying to stop the anger, bile and disgust brewing again. God, how I want to kill this fucking bitch. I first pulled out a handkerchief from my blood-drenched trousers and wiped the blood sprayed on my face. Then I dusted away invisible dust from the shoulder she had just touched. She raised her eyebrow and looked at me murderously, with malice, but just for a second, and then she masked it to her usual
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