Yvette's heart skipped a beat.
The phone fell to the ground with a thud.
Lance walked in barefoot. His pair of long legs were firm and solid, and his abdominal muscles were strong and beautiful.
He bent down to pick up the phone and handed it to Yvette, saying, "Try 82282222."
Yvette froze.
August, 22nd.
It was the date when they got married.
She was stiff and did not dare to move. The phone in her hand began to burn. The screen was bright, so he could see the words she had typed.
He read her text word by word.
"Mr. Wolseley, I am locked up by Lance. Can you help me out? Yvette."
Lance smiled gently and said coldly, "You are asking Marcus for help?"
Lance looked calm, but in reality, he was simmering with anger.
Sure enough, she still wanted to escape.
The thought made him agitated, and he was losing control.
