"Sister Moore, are you okay?" Ava looked at her with worrisome big eyes, her face pale. "Are you feeling unwell? You don't look good."
Just then, she saw Trenton Smith, smoking a cigarette, approaching from a nearby corner.
The light was bright. The man had taken off his brown trench coat and put it back on the sofa in the private room, wearing a white shirt. The top two buttons were undone, and the cufflinks were fastened properly, giving him a noble and restrained air. However, what shocked Ava the most was the distinctive slap mark on Trenton's right cheek.
Who dared to offend him?
The first name that flashed through Ava's mind was Norris Moore.
But apparently, it wasn't him.
The handprint was clearly left by a man.
Trenton, smoking a cigarette casually, strolled over with one hand tucked in his pocket, seemingly unbothered by the fact that everyone could see the handprint on his face.
