After a long silence, Grace Parker heard steady footsteps, knowing he was walking, she didn't rush him, patiently waiting.
Lorraine Hanson settled onto the sofa, looking out the floor-to-ceiling window. The night had fallen, the city lights were brilliant, dazzling, and somewhat blinding.
He closed his eyes, leaned back into the sofa, and said in a deep voice, "Grace, I have something to ask you…"
The man's voice was magnetic and hoarse, and in the quiet environment of the night, it sounded particularly pleasant and sexy.
However, Grace felt her heart sink without reason, a vague sense of panic.
"Wha... what?" She held her breath, asking nervously.
Lorraine slowly opened his eyes, his tone very serious, "That night... was it really you?"
Upon hearing the words "that night," the woman's heart skipped a beat, sinking to the bottom. Her fingers slightly trembled: "What do you mean? You, you suspect me? Don't trust me!?"
