Hope Williams gathered her thoughts, her voice chilly, "What now, President Lewis? Are you here to seek justice for Joy Ward?"
"..."
The man didn't speak, and all Hope could feel was the intense gaze of his deep, dark eyes boring into her, as if he was trying to see through her body and into the depths of her soul.
Hope's butterfly-like eyelashes trembled slightly, and she felt a tightness in her chest. The day's events had indeed exhausted her; she didn't want to say anything, and at this moment, she didn't want to deal with Waylon Lewis either.
Towards this man, she could never resort to behaving like Joy Ward, manipulating and feigning pity for sympathy. Perhaps she shouldn't have asked that question today.
But deep down, she had wanted Waylon Lewis to believe her, so she asked.
The result left her disappointed.
When he didn't trust her, she admitted to herself that she hadn't wanted to explain or provide evidence because she was acting petulantly.