Lyra Smith finally felt relieved to hold her own phone.
She shook her head, saying, "I'm not sleepy now, I need to contact my brothers first."
Morris Jackson didn't insist on her resting and just said two words: "As you wish."
After speaking, he unbuttoned his suit jacket and sat down in a chair nearby, with his slender legs casually crossed, and casually picked up a magazine from the table.
It was evident that he had no intention of leaving.
Lyra's hand holding the phone tightened, and she whispered, "Uncle Morris, aren't you going to the company?"
Morris Jackson turned a page, looking completely at ease, "No."
Then he glanced at her, "You can do whatever you want, don't worry about me."
Lyra: "!"
Under his watchful eyes, what could she do?
Nothing would be comfortable.
