Just arriving at the floor where Grace Yakov was staying, Mr. Gomez couldn't help but grumble, "Is our information wrong? How could Grace Yakov's status possibly be staying at the hotel in such a guest room?"
"She is not a luxurious person, no matter where she stays, it's all the same to her, all she wants is tranquility." Chester Yale's eyes flashed slightly, and he spoke indifferently.
As long as no one can think of it and can't find it, it's all the same to her.
Chester Yale closed his eyes, got off the elevator, and walked towards Grace Yakov's room.
Just walking into the corridor, he glimpsed a delicate figure curled up beside a door.
The weather was cold today, she seemed to be frozen, all huddled into a shrimp shape, her hands tightly hugging herself, her beautiful big eyes tightly closed, and her cherry lips slightly purple.
From a distance, she looked fragile like a porcelain doll that would shatter at the slightest touch.
