Holly Sinclair's expression turned frigid in an instant.
Any trace of her good mood vanished without a trace.
"Get out!"
The two words, concise and to the point, dripped with her utter loathing for him.
Tristan Sterling frowned.
'What happened to the gentle, obedient girl she used to be?'
He was displeased, but seeing the sickly pallor of her face, he couldn't bring himself to scold her.
She had just been discharged from the hospital after her miscarriage. Her body must still be very weak.
At this thought, Tristan Sterling sighed helplessly. He patiently said in a soft voice, "Holly, let's go inside and talk."
As he spoke, he prepared to push the door open and enter.
Holly Sinclair's face was a mask of frost. She blocked the doorway with her entire body and pulled out her phone to dial a number.
"Hello, 911—"
Before she could finish, the phone was snatched from her hand.
Tristan Sterling's brows knitted together. He hung up the call and powered her phone off completely.
