Old Hemings clicked his tongue. "Celia, do you know what I like about you?"

Celia's lips twitched slightly. "Not interested. Is it my straightforwardness?"

"Exactly, so clever. I also like how smart you are. It saves me the trouble of explaining. So, I'll get straight to the point," Old Hemings's tone suddenly turned grim.

"You need to bring your mother out."

He said.

Celia wasn't surprised. When the old man called, she already knew his intention.

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