Amelia Cobb looked at the milk in front of her, a sense of alarm sirens in her heart.
If she were still Amelia Cobb, she would have downed the milk without hesitation. But now... she wasn't.
She had verified this earlier.
Christopher Robinson's suspicions about her had not diminished, but rather increased day by day.
If she refused to drink the milk now, he would try again, but if she drank it, she could be courting her own death.
She might never live to see tomorrow's sun.
After all, if Christopher Robinson knew she was not Amelia Cobb, and she didn't have an access card, she wouldn't be able to escape.
Leaning on the chair, she gazed at Christopher Robinson, her eyes deep and guarded, yet calm: "Does Mr. Robinson not know of his fiancee's milk allergy?"
Christopher Robinson had imagined two possibilities: she would either drink it or find an excuse to avoid it.
He never expected her to respond so bluntly.
"Is that so?"