Hannah Johnson felt that Isaac Shea seemed unusually different tonight, perhaps because it was the first time she had seen him dressed so formally. Far from his usual gentle demeanor, he exuded a more mature and elite charisma.
Yet as she stared into his eyes, they still looked as wet and puppy-like.
"Should I call you Mr. Shea or Young Master Shea?" Hannah sat on the bed, looking at the man in front of her.
Isaac Shea froze for a moment.
Their gazes met, and he stared at her intently, his expression…
Quite aggrieved.
Hannah couldn't stand seeing him wear that look.
Sometimes in bed, he would occasionally do the same, softly calling her "Sister" as he pulled himself into passion, drowning in it with her.
She looked away, only to hear Isaac Shea bitterly say, "You don't even want to see me now?"
"Sis, do you really hate me that much?"
Hannah: "…"
