The two bodyguards paused for a moment, then remembered the recent hot search and turned their gaze towards Wyatt's feet, noting the cigarette butts scattered on the ground. It was clear his emotions were not in a good place.
The two bodyguards didn't say much, only advising, "Young Master Lewis, you should head home early."
Having said this, the two bodyguards also left.
Wyatt didn't look at them, instead pulling out another cigarette and lighting it.
He lifted his head, his gaze directed at a window where the lights had long gone out. His deep gaze seemed darker than the dark, boundless night.
Inside the room, Aria curled up in bed, her hands tightly clutching the sheets, her features tightly knitted, her smooth forehead covered in fine, dense cold sweat, with loose strands of hair sticking to her pale face, making it seem like she was trapped in an excruciating nightmare.
Suddenly, she abruptly opened her eyes and sat up in bed, gasping for air.
