Terrence's hand stalled slightly on his teacup.
"Speaking of which," the classmate continued casually, "my wife mentioned she saw your wife having tea with Larry from the special economic development zone a few days ago."
That single sentence was like a heavy stone dropped into the placid lake of Terrence's mind.
After the gathering ended, Terrence settled into the back of his car.
He pulled out his phone and dialed Tristan.
"Tristan, where are you?" Terrence asked.
"Grandfather, we're on our way back now," Tristan's voice came through the speaker.
"How is Penelope?"
"She's very unstable. Quentin hit her and ruptured her eardrum. We had her treated at the hospital, so she's physically fine now.
But... all her accounts are banned, and the internet is tearing her apart. She's in a terrible mental state."
Terrence remained silent for a moment before replying in a flat tone. "Understood. Bring her home first. Keep her out of trouble. Let her hide out at my place until the public stops tearing her to shreds."
"Understood."
Ending the call, Terrence's eyes grew exceptionally cold.
His face looked murderous.
The moment he walked through the front door, Doris hurried over. She bent down to fetch his slippers, saying, "Terrence, you're finally home."
Her eyes, however, subtly scanned his dark expression.
Without a word, Terrence leaned against the shoe cabinet and changed his footwear.
Feigning nonchalance, Doris asked, "Terrence, it's so late for someone your age to be out. What if you couldn't see the road clearly and took a fall? I'd be heartbroken!"
Terrence still didn't respond. He walked straight past her toward the water dispenser.
The quieter he was, the more panicked she felt.
She trailed after him, picking up a glass. "Terrence, do you want some water?"

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