Charlotte Young emerged from the kitchen wearing an apron, her tone gentle. "I've made ginger soup for everyone. You should all have a little."
Jean Grant pointed toward the door. "Get out. We don't need you here."
"I'll get going, then."
She seemed impeccably polite, with an unbelievably good temper.
For some reason, Jean Grant just couldn't stand women like her. She added sharply, "And don't come back."
Charlotte Young left without another word.
The room fell silent once more.
Quentin Grant wore a pair of sunglasses. Everyone understood why—his eyes were swollen.
A man in black entered, his expression grim. "Young Master, we've pulled the surveillance footage from the hotel's main entrance."
"Set it up here."
The man in black set the laptop down in front of him and opened it.
Chloe Marshall, still holding her IV drip, stood behind Quentin Grant to watch with him.
