At nine o'clock in the evening, Liora came down from the second floor wearing a trench coat. Her movements downstairs were slow and awkward. With each step on the stairs, she would take a light breath. Her beautiful eyebrows were furrowed, and her expression was indescribable whether it was of pain or restraint. Her shoulders shrugged, as if shivering.
In her left hand, she held a mobile phone, and the screen showed an ongoing call with Dashiell.
However, neither of them spoke.
Apart from the sound of her footsteps in the receiver, there was only her irregular breathing.
Dashiell instructed her to go to the company's office and to keep the call going. Liora wanted to hang up the phone because she couldn't control her sense of shame. It was bad enough that she was wearing a thong, but s
