Silas Thorne was always sharp. It was rare for Joyce Monroe to ask him about his older brother, so when he remembered he was supposed to deliver something to Zoe Monroe today, he got the gist of the situation.
'Could it be?'
'Did my brother bully my sister-in-law? Or scare her? Is that why the poor girl ran to my wife to complain?'
At that moment, the night was dark and the biting wind was relentless.
Zoe Monroe looked at the man in the distance. He was elegant and dignified, exuding a frosty air.
Their eyes met. The cigarette was a spark of fire against his lips, giving him an indescribable cold austerity, yet it also held an irresistible allure. So much so that many of the young women leaving the theater at the same time couldn't help but steal a few extra glances.
With the guzheng slung over her shoulder and a stand and bag in one hand, she quickened her pace toward him. The raging wind left her looking somewhat disheveled.
