"Go Cry to Mommy!"
The man's tone was indifferent and slow, carrying a chilling intimidation. As his words fell, the room plunged into a deathly silence. The air seemed to congeal with an invisible layer of ice, abruptly lowering the temperature.
Lorraine felt as if struck by lightning, her pupils contracting. Tristan had probably inherited the true teachings of Old Mr. Ford. Even though he maintained a calm demeanor, she could still sense the terrifying pressure emanating from him.
An inexplicable weight pressed on her chest, making it difficult to breathe. Lorraine squinted her eyes, staring at Tristan without blinking. Although the man's surface revealed nothing, his refined features concealed a cold and sinister aura.