Lisa had meant every word she had said and she was shamelessly unapologetic.
Ivy's face contorted with rage, her eyes blazing with fury.
"You cannot talk to me like that, you bit..." Ivy snarled, raising her hand to slap Lisa. But her wrist was caught in a tight grip, preventing any further motion.
Contrary to most romance novels, Lisa was not saved by Lian Que but by a total stranger.
"You will not lay your filthy hands on her," the man declared, his voice firm and authoritative before he turned to look at Lisa, his gaze softening.
He was tall and strikingly handsome, with a presence that commanded attention.
What struck Lisa the most was the very familiar shade of hazel that colored his eyes
It was a shade disturbingly similar to hers.
A wave of nostalgia hit her, stirring memories that danced just out of reach. She tried to grasp onto them, but nothing concrete came to mind. It was frustrating.
