It's time. It's time to go.

Meanwhile, Joyce had returned to the ballroom. Sᴇaʀch Thᴇ (ꜰind)ɴʘvel.nᴇt website on Gøøglᴇ to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.

Her mind was a bit foggy and her feet were a bit wobbly.

Reaching up, she rubbed her temples to ease the headache.

Hell, it had been so long, and why was she still thinking about these things. She should have forgot it all a long time ago, shouldn't she? She took a deep breath and tried to calm herself down.

But it didn't work half as well.

She still felt stuffy in her chest.

On the dining table, glasses of red wine were neatly and orderly arranged, and those tall glasses were filled with the crimson liquid, glistening with a crystal luster.

Earlier, she had a glass of red wine in her hand, just for show, and did not really drink it.

drinking and might get drunk after one

had an inexplicable urge to have

need some external force to stimulate her nerves. Her

of red wine, not to sip it, but to

expensive. It tasted slightly astringent, yet smooth.

was drinking, at first,

her upset emotions, it could not even quench

What's wrong with her? If he had amnesia, he had amnesia. He

slightly regretting her

I thought

her, Otis’ low,

her scalp tingled, and by the time she turned around,

Robertson, you were looking for me? Can

eyes lingering greedily on her body, "Where did

"Just a casual walk."

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