Help
"Chloe!" Seeing her daughter about to run off again, Fatima grabbed her once more. "Don't take this too far. You already made everyone search high and low for you once, and now you're going to—"
"Let go of me!" Chloe tried to break free, only to find that her mother's grip was extraordinarily strong this time. Fatima's fingers clamped around her wrist like a shackle, holding her fast until several nearby servants came forward and seized her shoulders and arms together.
"I've indulged you too much. That's why you've become like this," Fatima said coldly. "How many times have I told you, Chloe? You have your own battlefield—"
"Battlefield, my ass!" Chloe's voice had turned hoarse and rough from shouting. Xina stared blankly at her sister. She was used to Chloe losing her temper over all sorts of things, but anger like this... seemed to be a first.
Chloe's fury continued to spread. "My battlefield... You call this a battlefield? Do you want me to be like you, marrying some nobleman and working myself to the bone for the rest of my life without even earning the title of wife?"
"Chloe!" Xina's rebuke came almost at the same time as Fatima raised her hand. Chloe instinctively shut her eyes and hunched her neck—but Fatima's hand did not come down. Chloe opened her eyes hesitantly and found that her mother had already lowered it.
"Take her to the attic... to the confinement room," Fatima said calmly.
Xina looked at her sister, then at her mother, unsure what to do for a moment.
Several servants led Chloe out of the small dining room, but before they had even crossed the hallway outside, a commotion mixed with the servants' cries rang out—Chloe had escaped.
A male servant ran back in a panic