As soon as he entered the hall, Lorraine Hanson saw a woman sitting cross-legged on the sofa, holding a bottle of alcohol in her hand.
Several empty bottles were scattered on the coffee table and the floor, and the air was filled with a strong smell of alcohol.
He frowned, his steps did not pause, and he walked slowly to the front of the sofa, looking down at her from above.
The woman's gaze was vacant, staring at a certain spot on the carpet, her body stiff like a statue. Sensing something, she slowly raised her eyes; her watery eyes were bloodshot, red veins filling the bottom.
"You're here..." she said hoarsely. As soon as she spoke, her whole body shivered violently, and tears instantly rolled down, splashing drop by drop on her face.
Her desolate appearance was startling.
"What are you doing?!" Lorraine Hanson frowned, taking away the half-finished bottle of alcohol from her hand, postponing the questions he had for her.
