Chapter 20

Victoria shut her eyes in despair, a single tear slipping down her cheek.

William unzipped his pants, letting his hot, erect member free, and slowly entered her. Victoria's body went rigid, trembling even more. Her hands clenched into fists, nails digging into her skin, drawing thin lines of blood.

William enjoyed her body with a satisfied grin, panting, "Victoria, remember, your body is mine. You can't escape."

Hearing this, Victoria was filled with hatred. She suddenly bit down on his shoulder.

William grunted but didn't pull away. Moments later, he pulled out and then thrust back in harder, whispering in her ear, "Isn't this exciting? I love seeing you get aroused because of me."

Victoria pressed her lips together, staying silent. She'd rather endure the physical and mental torment than let William see her vulnerable.

William sensed her stubbornness and got even angrier. He thrust forcefully, sending his large, erect member deep inside her.

Victoria felt a surge of electricity spread through her body, arching her back and moaning.

"Moan louder, enjoy it more!" William looked at her with a wicked smile, his hand caressing her breasts.

Victoria bit her lip, shaking her head desperately, her vision blurred by tears.

"The more pitiful you look, the more I want to ravage you!" William said with a cold laugh.

Before he finished speaking, he suddenly pulled out and flipped Victoria over, making her lie on the coffee table. Victoria's body went rigid, tears flowing, trembling uncontrollably.

William looked at her trembling back with intense pleasure. Victoria's body was too beautiful, making him unable to stop. The curve of her back was particularly enticing. He bent down, kissing her buttocks, leaving red marks.

Victoria shamefully wiggled her hips, trying to escape. But William wouldn't let her, pressing her waist down with his hand, forcing her to raise her hips. With a forceful thrust, he entered her completely.

Victoria let out a broken sound, her brows furrowing in pain, her hands gripping the tablecloth, her body convulsing.

Seeing this, William thrust even harder. Victoria's head spun and her body went limp, as if she had lost consciousness, leaving only the rising pleasure and tingling sensation deep within her.

After an unknown amount of time, William finally released. He didn't pull out immediately but lay on top of Victoria, panting, his sweat-drenched hair sticking to his forehead and nose.

By this time, Victoria had fallen into a deep sleep. Her delicate features were pale from exhaustion, her brow furrowed, and her expression filled with pain.

William gazed at her for a while, then picked up a towel to clean her body and helped her change into loose, comfortable loungewear. After doing all this, he didn't leave immediately but sat by the bed, watching the sleeping Victoria.

Her tear-streaked face highlighted her smooth, delicate skin, and her slightly curled eyelashes trembled like butterfly wings. Even in sleep, she frowned, clearly not at peace. As William gazed at her sleeping face, a complicated expression flashed in his eyes.

He stood up, walked to the balcony, and lit a cigarette, the smoke curling around and blurring his handsome face. As his phone buzzed in his pocket, he took it out and answered.

"Mr. Scott, I've sent the information about the new secretaries to your email. Please check it," the HR manager said respectfully.

"Okay," William responded and hung up. He opened his inbox and saw the new emails with photos and resumes attached.

William skimmed through them. They were all graduates from top universities, young, beautiful, and capable.

But he thought to himself, 'Their eyes are too big and lifeless. This one's too short; I'd have to look down to speak. That one's been abroad too long and doesn't understand the domestic situation.'

Out of a dozen candidates, none satisfied him, so William stubbed out his cigarette in frustration. He called the HR manager back and said in a low voice, "What kind of people did you choose? Re-select!"

"But Mr. Scott, we've already recommended dozens of secretaries to you recently," the HR manager said, sounding aggrieved. "It's really hard to find anyone with better resumes than them!"

"Do I pay you tens of thousands of dollars a month to hear this nonsense?" William suppressed his anger and said in a deep voice, "Find better ones immediately! Otherwise, don't blame me for firing you!"

"Got it!" the HR manager replied meekly, swallowing the words he wanted to say, "Should I bring Ms. Carter back?"

But he ultimately didn't dare and could only sigh, continuing to sift through the endless resumes.

After hanging up, William rubbed his temples. How did he end up with such a bunch of idiots? Thinking about the chaotic work state these days, William lit another cigarette.

After Victoria left, the HR department immediately assigned him a new secretary, but unlike Victoria, she couldn't even make coffee, organize documents properly, or understand the preferences of negotiation partners.

Thinking of Victoria, William felt even more irritated. He looked around Victoria's shabby rental apartment, which had only a small one-bedroom, no TV.

His gaze was drawn to the stack of paintings in the corner. Despite the small space, Victoria had meticulously arranged dozens of completed works neatly together.

There was also an unfinished painting-a dark background like an endless abyss, with a lonely figure curled up in the corner, surrounded by vague shadows. The lines of the figure were twisted, seemingly enduring immense pain. But in the figure's hand was a tightly held paintbrush, its tip glowing faintly, like a light of hope struggling to survive in the darkness.

The use of color was also extremely oppressive, with deep tones conveying an indescribable despair. However, within this despair, there was a hint of stubbornness and resilience.

William's gaze was fixed on the painting, a deep surprise in his eyes. Having received an elite education since childhood, he had a keen appreciation for art and could naturally discern the level of skill in a painting.

Victoria's work, while still immature in technique, conveyed emotions that surged like an undercurrent, deeply affecting his heart.