For a moment, Nie Yixiao wrapped his arms around her waist, lifting her horizontally, and whispered in a low voice, "I'm sorry, Jiayi."
With a thread of consciousness remaining, Jiayi's eyes widened, incredulously looking at Nie Yixiao, whose gaze had inexplicably grown colder. Using her last ounce of strength, she clutched his collar, "Brother Yixiao..."
Tea?
Did he drug her when she went to get tissues?
Nie Yixiao bent down, and his thin lips gently brushed against Jiayi's forehead, "It's nothing."
Dizziness rolled over in waves, and darkness began to encroach Jiayi's vision, her hand slipping away.
Seeing her faint, Nie Yixiao strode toward the innermost bedroom of the presidential suite and laid the unconscious woman on the bed, then patrolled around the suite.
Upon reaching the study, his gaze fell upon the notebook computer on the desk.
Clearly, it was Huo Zhenyang's personal computer.