The old man sighed. "He's a Corrigan. The men in this family are all the same—they either don't love at all, or they love with everything they have. I can't stop him."
The housekeeper suddenly understood. "So what you're saying is..."
Turning away, the old man muttered, "He's being reckless. Let him do as he pleases and see where it gets him."
Later, when they returned to penthouse, Griffin arrived.
His gaze settled on Emerald, making her uneasy.
She couldn't quite explain it. Even though he was someone she had known for years, something about him felt distant—almost unsettling.
Looking for an escape, she quickly said, "I'll go check on the food in the kitchen. You two can talk."
Once she was gone, the room fell into silence.
Griffin stood by the second-floor window, watching the willow trees sway in the breeze and the black-sailed boats drifting lazily on the river.
