When Daisy Ginger asked this question, her expression was still calm.
It was only upon seeing Charlotte Smith's face change—a face that rarely showed much emotion—that she gradually realized something.
She lowered her head, once again examining the pills, her expression becoming gradually incredulous.
She pushed past Charlotte, who was standing at the doorway, and opened the door, walking into the bedroom she shared with Edward Stephens.
The room hadn't been cleaned by the servant yet, and at this lazy morning hour, it exuded a faint warmth and laziness.
On the bedside table sat the milk that Edward had specifically brought her last night; on the sofa was the coat she had taken off yesterday and hadn't had time to hang up.
No matter what, this bedroom had already completely blended the life aura of her and the man, emitting a faint feeling of home.
Yet at this moment, Daisy stood at the door, feeling a chill throughout her body.
