On the other end of the line was the voice she knew down to her very bones.
At this thought, she took a deep breath, pushing down the surge of emotion, trying to keep her voice steady.
"I don't know. This has nothing to do with me."
Lynn Shea stared at her.
She didn't speak, just looked at her in silence.
But no matter how long she looked, she didn't see anything.
She lowered her gaze to her phone screen, fingers flipping aimlessly through her photo album.
The people in those photos looked unfamiliar and blurred, she couldn't remember their names either.
Her brows knit faintly, and her heart felt hollow.
In the end, she could only lift her head, force a smile and say, "Uncle Hawthorne introduced you to a few good young men—all capable, all from good families. When do you have time to meet them?"
She was truly anxious.
Looking at her daughter sitting on the sofa, silent and bowed, she felt something clutch at her heart.
