One of the Ways to Make You Unhappy
Cynthia looked at the handsome face right in front of her, his features finely sculpted. The ink-black eyebrows were delicate, and in the deep black eyes, a shallow and devilish smile emerged, carrying a hint of charm unrelated to coldness and restraint. Cynthia's brow twitched fiercely. Did she have the potential for Stockholm Syndrome? How else could she not only remain calm but also feel a bit excited when hearing Tristan's dangerous words?
Until the abrupt ringing of her phone broke the unusual atmosphere. Cynthia was taken aback and hurriedly took out her phone from her bag. "Hello." She answered the call in haste, without checking the caller ID.
"It's me," Joe's voice came through the phone to her ears. Cynthia's expression couldn't help but darken a bit. She was about to hang up when Joe spoke again, "Cynthia, don't hang up! I really have something important to tell you."
"Oh?"