Jordan Guthrie silently retracted his gaze, a tempest raging in his heart. Extreme anger and hatred swirled towards him like snow beginning to melt; he couldn't look at her anymore—for he feared he might strangle her.
"Take her upstairs."
With a wave of his hand, he motioned for Joy Parker's bodyguard to take her upstairs.
As Joy passed by him, she seemed to glance at him, hesitant and unspoken.
Perhaps she wanted to talk about Nina...
Jordan sneered inwardly.
This person was just like that, capable of repaying grievances with virtue, even forgiving those who wanted her dead, yet so cruel to him.
After all this time, not once had she said "I'm sorry" to him.
Ten years, for him, was nearly a lifetime, whereas for her, it seemed like nothing more than a game, a dream—once awake, the game was over.
Without a single worry.
Only he was left there, distraught and disoriented.
Jordan's eyes dimmed slightly, his fingers tightened forcefully, and he took a deep breath.
