"Ms. Lawrence, it's not that we lack the ability to stop the wedding, but this time Edward Jackson has taken strict precautions. If we make a move at the wedding, it would be a futile effort." The voice on the other end sounded like it was processed by a voice changer, making it impossible to discern gender—mechanical, gloomy, with a hint of mockery that made one uncomfortable to hear.
Skye Lawrence sneered, dismissing his explanation coldly, "The Duke of Habsden has taken precautions, and you're afraid to make a move. With that kind of attitude, how can you cooperate with me?"
"Ms. Lawrence, haven't we had a pleasant collaboration before?"
Skye Lawrence interrupted him, "That was before! Our previous cooperation is over; the present is now."
She had been too aggressive before, but now...
She touched her abdomen, which felt like something was missing, and a flash of deep pain crossed her eyes.
