"I Know Far More Than This."
"How do you know I won't get my wish?" Cynthia raised an eyebrow, the curve at the corner of her mouth revealing an unhidden sharpness.
Upon hearing this, Naomi's pupils contracted, staring fixedly at Cynthia. Her gaze gradually shifted from shock to suppressed hatred.
Finally unable to bear it, she suddenly stood up, pointing at Cynthia and cursing loudly, "Cynthia, don't push your luck too far! I've already apologized to you, what more do you want! I kindly advise you, don't do things too recklessly, or beware of retribution!"
Tristan's eyebrows subtly furrowed, his cool voice sounding unhurriedly, "Though you've apologized, she doesn't have to forgive you. Miss Sweeney, you're overestimating yourself."
His voice was low and slow, like a blade rubbing against the heart, chilling to the bone.
Naomi's mother swallowed hard, her neck stiff, her voice strained, "What exactly will it take for you to let us go..."