The training the Prime Minister made me go through scarred me for life. Not only emotionally, but physically too.
Long traces of red bruised flesh were left behind by the servant's whips. They applied extra force when the results were lacking more and more closer to the deadline.
Who would have blamed them?
In the last three days, Madam would come herself to watch my progress. Least to say she was disappointed.
I think it wasn't the disappointment that drove her to turn the whips on the servants that handled them before. It was fear. Terror that the same whips she was using on them will turn into whips her husband will use on her.
So the blood and the screams of my teachers didn't soften her.
She was determined to spark revenge and merciless vengeance inside their souls so my punishment for my negligence in the studies would be more thorough.
After all, to shape a hopeless, uneducated alpha into the heir of the Prime Minister is less than a week was an impossible task.
