Frank Mitchell held a freshly brewed cup of tea, took a gentle sniff, and sipped it, frowning with dissatisfaction.
"What's wrong, you don't like my tea?" Lillian Spencer spoke slowly and calmly.
"It's just bearable." Frank Mitchell found it odd, "The Presidential Mansion doesn't serve Miss Lillian Spencer such astringent tea, does it?"
Lillian Spencer smiled without responding. After leisurely savoring a cup of tea, she closed her eyes and tapped her hand on her knee, "Calculating the length of time, it should be successful."
In the next second, a guard came to report, confirming Lillian Spencer's prediction of success.
She waved to signal the guard to leave.
Frank Mitchell looked at this dignified woman, a flicker of admiration in his eyes, "Miss Lillian Spencer, why bother? Taking revenge on Thomas Shannon by merely targeting his friends is far from enough. We both know, the most fatal blow lies in Sophie Sullivan."
