It hurts, the hands have quite a strong grip despite being small.

Gerald Smith didn't stop her and nodded: "Go ahead."

As Morris Jackson left the table, Lyra Smith immediately stood up: "I-I-I-I have to go to the bathroom too."

Stammered quite a bit.

Everyone knew where she was going, but no one exposed her!

After all, Morris Jackson had just been forced to drink three large glasses full of red wine by her father, even a heavy drinker would struggle with that.

Outside.

Lyra ran after Morris, heading straight for the bathroom.

The man leaning against the wall, waiting for her to come out, suddenly reached out, grabbed her wrist, and called: "Lyra."

Lyra turned her head and met his dark, deep eyes.

She asked worriedly: "Uncle, are you okay? Nothing happened, right?"

Morris Jackson took in her concern, and gently reassured her: "I'm fine, don't worry."

"How can I not worry…" Lyra pulled her hand back and made an exaggerated gesture: "Three huge glasses of red wine! It's a killer!"