Ti can verify everything.
If a woman in love cannot fully grasp reality, then leave everything to ti.
"Great!" Noah Reed was overjoyed, "Sis, don't go back on your word!"
"Hmm." Delia Frieman nodded, but her eyes flickered with worry.
Noah Reed noticed the unusual look in Delia's eyes and imdiately asked: "Sis, is sothing bothering you?"
"Not really sothing to worry about, just a bit strange."
With that said, Delia told Noah Reed about her encounter with Rachel Barton.
Upon hearing her words, Noah Reed frowned slightly.
Logically, given the Thompson Clan's power, it was almost impossible for anyone trying to help Rachel Barton escape.
"Is Miss Thompson aware of this?" Noah Reed asked thereafter.
Delia nodded, "I've told her."
Noah Reed squinted his eyes, "As long as you've told her. This matter is not ours to intervene."
"Hmm."
On the other side.
Viola Thompson rode her bike to the cetery.
She bought a bunch of red roses from the base of the mountain.
Initially, she wanted to buy white chrysanthemums.
But rembering Mrs. Thompson's fondness for red roses during her lifeti, she chose red roses after careful thought.
After choosing the roses, Viola, holding the bouquet, proceeded to walk uphill.
Last night it had snowed, and although the cetery was cleared, the path was still difficult to walk.
Viola wore a long beige coat that reached down to her ankles, black pants, and a pair of non-slip boots.
A simple outfit.
And still carrying a dazzling bunch of roses.
Her cold and dusty temperant, juxtaposed with the vibrant roses, creates a striking contrast, giving people a strong visual impact.
Such a beautiful woman.
Passers-by who brushed past her couldn't help but turn to take another glimpse.
Though many beautiful won exist, most people have only seen them on television. The probability of eting such a gorgeous woman in real life is pretty much zero.
In no ti, she arrived at Mrs. Thompson's grave.
The old lady had been buried for just a week.
But the fresh dirt by the grave had already rged with the rest of the soil.
In the photograph, Mrs. Thompson still sported a kindly smile.
Having loved beauty all her life, on realizing that her ti was nearing the end, she handpicked her most beautiful photograph from her Facebook and had it placed on the gravestone.
"Grandma, I've co to see you."
Viola placed the flowers in front of the gravestone.
"The people who deserved punishnt have been punished. You can rest now."
Having said this, she deeply bowed.
Then, Viola simply sat in front of Mrs. Thompson's grave, not uttering a single word.
Her figure appeared sowhat desolate.
Just half a month ago, she was laughing and talking with Mrs. Thompson.
Many tis, recalling these monts felt like a dream.
She didn't know how much ti had passed.
Out of the blue, snowflakes started to drift from the gray sky.
One by one.
Viola looked up at the sky, and a snowflake just happened to fall into her eye, lting into water.
At that mont, the gray sky was replaced by black.
It was...
A black umbrella.
Following the umbrella down to the handle, she saw a slender hand.
It was quite pleasing to the eye.
Looking up from these hands, she saw a face as gentle as jade.
"Marcus."
Mr. White smiled faintly, "I thought it was you when I glanced over from afar, and I was right. You ca to visit your grandmother?"
"Hmm." Viola nodded slightly, "And you?"
There was hardly a change in Mr. White's facial expression as he casually said, "I'm visiting my parents."
Although Viola was acquainted with Mr. White, she had no knowledge of his personal affairs. It was a surprise to hear that his parents were no more.
"I'm the ninth child in my family, the baby of the family. They passed away when I was 19." Mr. White's expression remained unchanged as he narrated, "By the way, you probably don't know my na, do you? Because I'm ninth in the family, my parents nad Marcus White, hoping I'd be honest, reliable, and prudent in everything I do when I grow up."
When his parents were alive, people used to call him by his na.
Ever since they passed away, nobody had ever called him that na again.
Viola only nodded lightly, "So that's it."
If Mr. White didn't bring it up, she wouldn't even know he was nad Marcus White.
Mr. White continued, "I have to go back now. Would you like to co along?"
"Hmm." Viola nodded softly.
Mr. White's car was parked at the foot of the mountain.
As usual, it was the old Volkswagen.
He had been driving this car for ten years now.
After getting in the car.
Mr. White seed sowhat apologetic, "Viola, the air conditioning of this car broke down a few days ago and I haven't gotten around to getting it fixed. I hope you don't mind."
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