Chapter 72: Is It Fatal?

He changed into his regular clothes, sat on the sofa in the bedroom, lit a cigarette, and continued to read the material that Oliver Howe had sent over today but hadn't finished reading yet.

Stanhope Brown didn't turn around, and spoke indifferently, "There are no women's bathrobes here. That's mine... it's a bit big, so you'd have to make do with it. Your clothes are soaking wet... Christopher will bring you clean ones tomorrow."

Grace Gordon raised her foot... the delicate, tofu-like little feet left the small carpet at the bathroom entrance and stepped on the wooden floor...

Stanhope Brown didn't hear the movement and turned around, only to find that Grace Gordon had already walked to the center of the bedroom. Holding the towel tightly across her chest instead of changing into the bathrobe, she looked nervous and scared.

"Do you want me to leave?" Stanhope Brown asked as he got up with a cigarette in one hand and an ashtray in the other, ready to go outside.