But the sharp gasps from everyone around, a mixture of shock and disbelief, were already reminding him:
Silas Thorne,
was really here!
The entire venue fell deathly silent.
Silas Thorne was younger than many people in the room, yet the disdainful arrogance of a man in power seemed to instantly silence all the rumors and slander.
In his presence, everyone could only look up to him, their gazes filled with admiration and humility.
The hotel's senior executives trailed beside him, all of them bowing in a display of utter humility.
Dressed in a black overcoat, he had probably rushed here from outside, still carrying the biting chill of the winter air.
Simply standing there, he exuded an oppressive, wintry chill, to say nothing of the calm and indifference etched into his very bones. Yet, the moment his gaze landed on Joyce Monroe, his eyes seemed to soften with incredible tenderness.
He said nothing, but his eyes sent a clear message:
Come here!
