It must be said that Amelia Cobb had indeed trained her perceptive skills during her years at the Negotiation Institute, as this seemingly unimportant person was playing a vital role.
She could see the essence of things.
That night, Christopher Robinson sat in a black Bentley, his hand trembling slightly as he held his phone.
For a moment, he didn't know whether to praise Amelia Cobb for her intelligence or to criticize Isaac Fenton for disrupting his plans.
Christopher's emotions were in turmoil.
If Amelia could force Alice Heaton to go home, there must be something important at Alice's place. If those things fall into Amelia's hands, she would be only a step away from the truth.
If Amelia obtained the truth—
No, no, no, she couldn't.
He wanted Amelia for himself; how could he let her discover the truth?
Christopher's palms were covered in cold sweat, and his momentary joy was quelled by Amelia's move.
Joy?
Fucking joy.
All he had left now was panic.
