Quincy mentioned there was trouble at work, so naturally, Lydia asked a few questions. But he didn't want to say much, leaving her no choice but to let it go. "Alright, just come home soon," she finally said.

After they hung up, there was a knock at the door, followed by the concerned voice of the housekeeper.

"Ma'am, I've made some chicken soup. Would you like some?"

Lydia opened the door and let her in to set the soup on the table. The housekeeper was about to leave, but she hesitated, as if she had something on her mind. "What is it, Mrs. Clinton?" Lydia asked.

Mrs. Clinton hesitated for a moment before replying, "A man called earlier. When I asked who he was, he hung up right away."

"Maybe he dialed the wrong number?"

"That's what I thought too. But he called several times," she said, looking at Lydia with uncertainty. "I thought he might be trying to reach someone."

Lydia's eyes flickered with unease. Quincy hadn't come home yet, and aside from Mrs. Clinton, she was the only one in the house.

looking for her? But how would

darkened. Just thinking about him put her in a

In fact, just unplug the

that still required a cord. Unplugging it would stop the calls entirely. Mrs. Clinton nodded

sleep. In the middle of the night, she stirred, feeling a faint tickling

hand lightly brushing against her. The moment she fully woke up, the hand quickly pulled back,

Quincy's silhouette beside her and spoke in a groggy voice, "Quincy? Why didn't

disturb you,"

her head on his lap. Quincy gently helped her get more

the faint scent of

overwhelming sense of peace. After some time, she broke the silence. "How's the situation

legal notices to a few influencers, and we've issued a statement

will believe it?" Lydia asked, hesitating and

to something as trivial as editing

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