Candice Yancey: ...
Her mind went blank, and she looked at Alfred Garland in astonishnt, then at Amadeus Yancey, unable to find her voice for a long ti: "You’re saying all the small pills on the Black Market were made by Nathalie?"
"Yeah."
Alfred Garland even emphasized specifically, "All made by Ms. Quinlan, otherwise how could she have the ability to cure the young master’s leg."
Candice Yancey opened her mouth but then was rendered speechless, and looking again at the dicine she had spent an eight-figure sum on, her expression completely fell apart!!!
*
In the restroom.
Nathalie Quinlan was waiting for Justin Wafford to co out.
She leaned against the wall with her long legs crossed, wearing a duckbill cap, bowed her head playing with her phone, revealing a section of her attractive chin.
There was a casualness in her eyes, and her posture was far from proper, almost roguish.
Lowie Wilmar sent her a ssage asking when her airplane would depart.
She just replied.
Before long, another ssage from Lowie Wilmar ca. A simple sentence explaining he couldn’t go to the airport to see her off tomorrow due to family business; an elder was sick.
Nathalie’s eyelids drooped as she tapped on the phone screen, its light faintly glowing as she finished responding to Lowie’s ssage. Then, bending her knees, she straightened up and looked in the direction of the restroom, her brow furrowing with a touch of impatience.
Justin Wafford had been in there for twenty minutes and still hadn’t co back. Had he fallen into the toilet?
Nathalie had a headache. Just as she was considering whether to make a phone call to him, Justin finally erged from the restroom, phone in hand.
"Nathalie."
Nathalie lifted her eyelids to glance at him, her temples throbbing, and said, "Don’t tell , you’ve been on the phone for half an hour in there."
"Uh, you could tell?" Justin Wafford touched the back of his head, looking sowhat sheepish, and said with a handso and helpless face, "The class is waiting for to send news back, and I was going to talk to them after returning to the hotel. But they kept ssaging , and I had no choice but to call them first. I unintentionally chatted a few more words and didn’t notice the ti."
"Sorry, Nathalie," he said with a very proper attitude of apology.
Nathalie didn’t make a fuss, straightened her legs, and no longer dwelled on the matter, saying, "Let’s go, they are waiting for us in the private room."
"Alright," Justin Wafford followed her, then suddenly rembered sothing, "Right, there’s sothing I’m not sure if I should tell you. I don’t think it’s a big deal, but Jhovany Sullivan has been worried."
Nathalie, looking down at her phone for the private room number Amadeus had sent, asked without raising her head, "What is it?"
Justin Wafford trailed behind her, frowning as he said, "It’s nothing much. Freddy Cagwin didn’t co to school yesterday, took a leave, and he didn’t show up today either. Jhovany tried calling him but got no answer, not sure what he’s up to."
But skipping school is normal, isn’t it? Who hasn’t skipped classes during their student days?
He was in a rebellious phase in his freshman year, frequently skipping classes, and even his family couldn’t control him. Later on, when the class ford a study group and paired him with Jhovany Sullivan, that earnest girl took the teacher’s words, "Group mbers should help and support each other, especially those who struggle with studying," as a holy decree. She pestered him every day to study and even followed him to a bar once, just to make sure he completed his howork, almost getting harassed by a creep.
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