"You ruined my shirt, Bella!" Mr. Atticus' voice echoed in my ears. I looked at his white— well, now coffee-drenched shirt.
One thing was surely true; no matter how much Pheonix Atticus loved me, his love for his money and materialistic things would always be more. Especially when he loved saving so much. I licked my lips, my eyes seeing my fate way before the mighty Lord did. He would make me work overtime with no money to compensate for ruining his shirt.
"I burned your chest as well. But you don't care about that," I said, looking up at him. My eyes met his midnight ones and I saw fire in them. He was angry. But instead of yelling insults at me, like he did in the past, he simply glared at me.
One, he can't insult me now. Because that would lead him to a lot more problems. And two,
