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Finnian Moore did not urge, he quietly waited for Silvia Hayes to react.

Silvia Hayes clenched her fists, turned around, and walked in.

On the second floor was a desolate stand, under which is a hall where the institute usually holds reports and lectures.

At the moment, the hall was full of packed audiences and media reporters holding cameras all around.

Familiar people were whispering. Perhaps being in the whirlpool of history and artifacts gave people a crushing sense of heaviness, even their footsteps on the carpet were unconsciously lightened, for fear of disturbing something.

On the stand, in the center, a young man was sitting on a sofa, holding a newspaper in his hand, with a cup of green tea burning beside him.

Silvia Hayes pursed her lips, walked over, and said, "Cousin."

The man did not look up, he pointed to the seat next to him: "Sit."

Silvia cautiously sat down, her sharp eyes caught that the front page of the newspaper was about Aubree Groove.