Her eyes grew colder, reflecting her resolve.


    Meanwhile, Joann went to visit Bet’s ce.


    Following their recent argument at the hospital, Bet avoided her even more.


    She hoped to mend things, but as she approached his door, holding a food container, a servant blocked her path.


    “Miss Crawford, I’m sorry, but you’re not wee here.


    You should leave.


    ”


    Joann’s expression darkened.


    “Who are you to tell me what to do? Move!”


    The servant looked troubled.


    “Miss Crawford, please.


    Mr.


    Lowell has specifically said not to let you in.


    ”


    Joann’s anger red up.


    “You’re just a servant.


    Don’t talk to me like that.


    Move now!”


    She pushed past the servant and hurried upstairs, determined to confront Bet.


    “Miss Crawford, wait!” the servant called after her, trying to catch up, but Joann had already disappeared upstairs.


    She walked toward Bet’s room, passing by his study, where the door was slightly open.


    Thinking he was there, she swung the door open and called out, “Bet, we need to talk.


    ”


    However, the room was vacant.


    As she turned to leave, a photo on the desk caught her eye.


    Joann set the food container down on the desk with a soft thud and reached for the photograph.


    The man in it bore a faint resemnce to Bet.


    She knew Bet’s father well; this was not him.


    Her thoughts drifted to the whispers she’d heard about the Lowell family.


    The year Bet’s uncle had suffered a severe car crash, the entire family had vanished into thin air.


    In the past few years, Bet had been tirelessly searching for his missing rtives.


    Could this be the missing uncle?


    Then, she looked at the woman and child in the photo.


    As Joann puzzled over the connection, Bet’s sharp voice sliced through her thoughts.


    “What the hell are you doing here?” he snapped, his voice colder than a winter chill.N?velDrama.Org copyrighted ? content.


    “Who gave you the right toe in?”


    Startled, Joann dropped the photograph to the desk.


    Bet’s usual calm demeanor was absent; his anger was palpable.


    It was a rare sight and spoke volumes.


    Desperately trying to regainposure, Joann stammered, “I… I brought you some soup.


    I thought you might still be feeling unwell, so I made this for you.


    It’s good for recovery.


    ”


    She opened the food container, revealing the steaming soup, but Bet barely spared it a nce.


    His face twisted in displeasure.


    “I don’t want it.


    And I don’t care how you got in this time, but don’t do it again.


    Just take that soup and get out.


    You’re not wee here.


    ”


    His harsh words impaled Joann like a spear.