The old man sighed with relief and handed the phone to the butler.
Lillian, who was kneeling across the desk, saw him hang up the phone so quickly, sounding anxious.
"Grandpa, what did Hunter say?"
"He didn't like Lena."
Lillian clenched her fists, tears started to fall down, indeed the more she liked, the less willing she was to admit.
The old man picked up the brush and was about to continue practicing calligraphy. Seeing her crying so sadly, his brow furrowed for a moment.
"Lillian, why are you so concerned about Hunter's lifelong matters? If you have time, please advise your mother not to make our family's dirty laundry known to everyone."
Lillian slowly got up, feeling a numbness in her legs. She casually wiped her cheeks a couple of times.
"Grandpa, don't you find it strange?
