"Go and check on her for me."
Abigail Hemsworth's gaze followed the person disappearing, then she withdrew her sight.
It was somewhat familiar; she had once argued with him over Travis Miller.
Fredrick Crawford.
An assistant next to Travis Miller.
"Grandpa, take care of yourself."
With such a big incident happening, the Old Master was bedridden, and there was a family doctor at home, yet she still hadn't returned home to see him.
"I'm fine. Go and check on Salma for me. I heard she's not doing well."
"Grandpa." Abigail Hemsworth stood up, walked to the railing, and watched the people going back and forth in the parking lot, "Zachary Hemsworth is dead."
The other end of the phone was silent for a long time.
Abigail Hemsworth's slender, pale hand gripped the already rusted railing tightly, speaking smoothly in a calm tone.
