She had no evidence now and certainly couldn't point the finger at anyone.
But she didn't need to point the finger at anyone.
Since Song Ci had bumped into her gun, she would simply take care of her.
And she had no need to concern herself with anyone else's gaze or opinions.
Song Yan looked at Song Ci again, coldly; by this time, she had calmed down a bit, and the slap mark on her face was becoming increasingly clear.
With an expression of utmost grievance, she'd set herself up as the pitiful little rabbit, the victim.
It was a truly nauseating performance.
"I'm asking you, do you think that without my dad, it's your turn to speak and call the shots for the Song Family?"
Song Ci said, "Dad is unwell, and these matters have always been left to Qin Wang and me to handle. I don't think I've done anything wrong today."
Song Yan laughed.
This ability of hers to dodge the important and cling to the trivial was indeed quite remarkable.
