Reaching out to take the ring, Maxwell Peary felt that his fingertips had lost all sense of touch.
Watching the ring, his brows knit tighter and tighter.
This ring, although it looked very simple, was exquisitely crafted.
Just at a glance, it was clear this ring was custom-made and not something that could be completed in a short time.
With a gentle turn, he indeed saw the letters hf engraved on the inside of the ring.
Hastings!
He clearly remembered, when Yancy Hastings found out about his wedding, he said a few words, sounding rather sour.
"So sudden, so heart-wrenching, no, no, I also need to get married."
"Do you have a partner?"
"No partner, but I can prepare the wedding ring first, custom-make the ring, so that time is shortened, and then engrave my initials 'hf' on the inside."
......
This ring must belong to Yancy Hastings.
From this, one could determine that Yancy Hastings was truly not dead.
"What's wrong?"
