The smile on Annabelle Linton's lips deepened, and she opened the door without a second thought. Leona Grant was standing outside, his gaze burning as he stared at her.
Annabelle Linton froze, mainly because she truly hadn't expected him to be there.
Leona Grant wore a black, tailor-made, slim-fit suit, a crisp white shirt, and diamond cufflinks. Every button was meticulously fastened, the suit without a single wrinkle—he was as detached, severe, and ruthless as ever.
He possessed an untouchable, lofty nobility, and his every move carried an innate dignity and the aura of a king.
The moment Annabelle Linton saw him, her eyes instantly turned cold. Her first reaction was, 'He's fucking here to start something!'
Then, without a second thought, she tried to slam the door shut.
A sharp glint flashed in Leona Grant's eyes. He forced the door open, stopping her from closing it, and demanded coldly, "Why won't you let me in?"
