In that moment, a tidal wave of memories surged forth, engulfing her. In a flash, countless thoughts of their time together flickered through Violet Don's mind. Five years, they had been married for five years—how could he simply throw it away as if it meant nothing?
Violet composed herself, masking the panic in her expressions. Chris, who was by her side, spoke up first, helping her ease the awkwardness, "Young Master Bates seems to know Dawn from before?"
In private, Chris often called her by her English name, Dawn, a name under which Violet felt more alive, reborn from the ashes, rather than like the foolish woman who loved him so cautiously.
Chris's question deepened Noah Bates's gaze imperceptibly, as if a flicker of emotion crossed his eyes in that instant, only to be swallowed up by the depths of his pupils, black as a black hole.
His eyes were very dark, shimmering with a splendid luster, and possessed an oddly beautiful aesthetic.
Noah Bates, as heartless as the night.