Jasmine Yale's voice was soft, like a gentle breeze blowing through the afternoon, soothing and pleasant.
In the past when faced with such situations, she would have been frightened and lost, her eyes red-rimmed, tense and uneasy, and might even cry.
But now, she has become capable of handling things on her own.
She was no longer that seventeen or eighteen-year-old girl, maybe only in front of him, she was still a little girl.
Because only when he was there, she didn't have to stand in the storm alone.
He could shield her from all the wind and rain.
The reporters' questions kept coming at her, all very sensitive and difficult to answer, but she still picked a few to answer calmly and composedly.
She would not embarrass Sylvan Cheney or Erin Janus in any way, nor would she tarnish the company's image, and certainly not harbor any grievances.
What needed to be dealt with would be handled later, but at this moment, all she needed was to remain calm.
