Addicted, Clinging to His Adam's Apple

If not for the former, then for what reason would it be?

Cynthia Shannon narrowed her eyes slightly, a glimmer of darkness flickering within them.

She always felt like her grandfather was hiding something from her.

Could it be that she herself harbored some unknown secret?

A hint of confusion and restlessness colored her eyes as she raised a hand to pinch her brow.

“Cynthia, don't you owe me a reasonable explanation?” The man's deep and cold voice echoed softly from behind.

Cynthia abruptly turned around, only to see Tristan unbuttoning his suit jacket and tugging at his tie.

But the tie only grew tighter as he pulled, and his impatience became more pronounced.

Observing this, Cynthia pursed her lips and spoke with a hint of appeasement in her tone, “Shall I help you?”

Upon hearing her words, Tristan's movements halted, and he simply discarded his suit jacket onto the nearby sofa, standing silently in place, awaiting Cynthia's approach.