"Phoebe, co sit down quickly," Mrs. Hoffman hastily pulled out a chair beside her, bidding her to sit.
She then served her a bowl of chicken soup, placed it in front of her, and said softly, "You didn’t have breakfast, have so soup before eating."
"Okay," Phoebe’s response was noncommittal. She picked up the spoon and sipped the soup slowly, stirring it in the bowl. She seed distracted, barely drinking the soup as she occasionally checked her phone, as if waiting for a ssage.
The other mbers of the Hoffman family didn’t notice her subtle actions, but Lincoln Hoffman did.
He glanced at her a few more tis unconsciously. With his sharp and restrained eyes fixed on her, he was about to ask her what was going on when suddenly his phone rang.
Who could it be at this ti?
He was frowning, not planning to reply to the ssage, but then he saw the red S symbol of the sender.
The symbol of the Red Alliance!
His expression turned grave. With a serious look, he stood up, took his phone, and walked aside to check the ssage.
The family at the dining table didn’t notice his sudden departure. Old Mr. Hoffman put down his chopsticks, leaned back, and fixed his gaze on Phoebe with authority, saying, "It has been almost a week since you’ve been back, and you still haven’t told us why The Ninth Institute expelled you. What exactly did you do?"
Phoebe’s face suddenly lost a shade of color. She put down her soup spoon, looked up at him quickly, then hung her head and stayed silent.
"Dad..." Mr. Hoffman couldn’t bear to see her look so dejected and tried to defend her to Old Mr. Hoffman, "Phoebe just got back not long ago. If she doesn’t want to speak, then let it be. Don’t press her."
Old Mr. Hoffman scolded coldly, "You shut up!"
Mr. Hoffman wanted to speak but then stopped, not daring to say more.
"How can we help her if we don’t get to the bottom of this?"
Old Mr. Hoffman said sternly, and then turned his head, demanding with resolve, "Phoebe, you tell us, what exactly happened!"
"I..." Phoebe’s hands on the table clenched involuntarily, biting her teeth in humiliation, unable to speak.
The whole Hoffman family waited for her to clarify. With several pairs of eyes on her, Phoebe’s mind went blank, her heart constricted as if gripped by an invisible hand.
"I..."
Mrs. Hoffman grew anxious, "Phoebe, what on earth happened? Speak up, your grandfather and your uncles will help you find a solution. If you don’t speak up, no one knows how to help you!"
"I..." Phoebe still couldn’t find the words, turning her head away awkwardly, her chin pointing off to the side, her voice quick and flustered, "Mom, just stop asking, I don’t want to talk about it."
The whole Hoffman clan saw her reaction. They exchanged glances and each saw anxiety in the other’s eyes, yet they felt helpless.
Old Mr. Hoffman was visibly agitated, his chest heaving with anger, but as Phoebe was his own granddaughter, and as she resolutely refused to disclose what happened that day, he couldn’t possibly pry open the mouth of a living, breathing person to force it out.
During the silence that ensued,
Lincoln Hoffman, who had gone out to reply to a ssage, returned quickly, a clear fury behind his eyes, walking straight toward Phoebe.
With a thud, he slamd the phone on the table in front of Phoebe, his expression so dark it seed water could drip from it.
"You took the virus I gave you and misused it?"
Virus, misuse... Although the rest of the Hoffman family didn’t know what he was talking about, his tone of voice made it clear that the matter was severe.
Phoebe suddenly raised her head, her expression panicked and guilty, clearly terrified by Lincoln’s abrupt accusation.
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