In the living room, the air felt oppressively tight.
Andrew Locke stared at Nora Hart, momentarily at a loss for words.
Jordan Hart sat opposite the two, struggling to jump into the conversation but getting cut off every time he attempted to speak by Nora Hart.
"Director Hart, feeling clueless, are you? Why don't you leave?" Nora Hart's tone was light yet pointed, trying to make him take a hint.
Nora Hart had no shame, but Jordan Hart did, yet he knew well that pride was useless here without Andrew Locke's support—all that awaited him was loss.
"Shouldn't you be the one to leave?"
Nora Hart raised an eyebrow: "What's that supposed to mean? Are the two of you actually... involved?"
"What, because 'If Heaven had emotions, it would grow old, and a man who doesn't fool around dies early'? Second brother, don't tell me you swing both ways now?"