"Who are you texting?" Satoru asked with a venomous tone, his fingers itching to snatch your phone.

From the very start, Satoru expected your loyalty and obedience, wanting you to depend on him. Witnessing you engrossed with your phone, a smile gracing your face—it was just disgusting to him. There was no way in hell Satoru would accept something so outrageous.

"Hand me that phone, honey," the white-haired man snarled, one hand reaching out to grip your forearm.