But as soon as she met Tristan Lowell's cold and deep eyes, her voice immediately weakened.
She subconsciously lowered her head, not daring to meet his gaze again.
Tristan Lowell casually picked up a dish and placed it in her bowl, his tone deep.
The chopstick of greens fell onto the white rice.
"You tell me, is my reputation more important, or is this matter more important?"
He stared at her, asking word by word.
Yvonne Cheney opened her mouth, but couldn't utter another word.
Finally, she could only lower her head, silently picking up a chopstick of food, slowly bringing it to her mouth.
Lana Lowell sat beside them, trembling with anger.
But no matter how angry she was, what use was it?
From beginning to end, this matter wasn't for outsiders like them to comment or decide.
Family decisions have always been made by the men.
Cora Lowell, however, remained calm, leaning sideways against the staircase handrail.
