Lyra Smith slowly lifted her head.
Seeing who was standing in front of her, she stood up abruptly, and obediently called out, "Uncle Morris." Then she asked, "Are you here to pick me up?"
Morris Jackson replied with a hum.
Her guilty demeanor couldn't be more obvious, which Morris couldn't help but notice. His gaze landed on the laptop she held in her arms and asked, "Whose computer is that?"
"It's mine."
Morris extended his hand.
Lyra's hand tightened on the laptop: "Uncle Morris, I can carry it myself. It's not heavy."
Morris withdrew his hand, impassively taking note of her small movement: "Why did you bring your laptop?"
Lyra's demeanor started to become uneasy: "...Actually, it's not my laptop. It's Mr. Wright's. He had a little too much to drink tonight, so Erwin took him home, and I...I was tasked with bringing his laptop home."
What a preposterously crafted lie.
Moreover, she was stuttering as she lied, making her words sound disconnected and clumsy.
