The man sitting on the sofa reading looked up, the bright sunlight outside the window falling on his flawless face, making one momentarily dizzy.
The man closed the thick German book, looked up at her, and then smiled gently.
"Almost two months since we last met, Iris, how have you been?"
His tone was gentle, his movements casual. Sitting there, he showed no trace of the disgrace of imprisonment. He was still so elegant and noble, like an otherworldly transcendent.
It was as if this fall from grace, being held in the royal prison, was merely an inconsequential disaster to him.
Seeing him doing so well, Iris Harris felt extremely complicated.
This man had caused her so much misery; it was he who almost bankrupted the Lester family, forcing her to stay and rebuild it, resulting in Brandan breaking up with her; it was also he who poisoned her, putting her in mortal danger, leaving her no choice but to come see him again.
If she could, she truly never wanted to see him again.
