Cecilia Vaughn was startled, looking up into an arrogant and gloomy handsome face.
"It's clearly a trap, and you're still going?"
The young man's voice was indifferent, a tone so cold that it inevitably reminded one of the endless moonlight on a winter's night—beautiful, yet devoid of warmth.
Cecilia Vaughn glanced at Sean Grant with some surprise. Ever since childhood, most bystanders had always assumed Fiona Vaughn was the weak and innocent one, yet he was able to see through her true nature at a glance.
The girl gave a bitter smile.
"Quite a few of my mother's keepsakes are still in their hands. If they remain with my stepmother, it would be such a waste."
"I must retrieve them."
As she spoke, the delicate brows of Cecilia Vaughn gradually took on a touch of resilience, like an indomitable bamboo standing tall.
"When soldiers come, I'll counter with generals; when water comes, I'll use earth to cover. Do I, in the eyes of Grant, look like someone easy to bully?"
