'Butler John, answer the other person; she dialed the wrong number.' With absolutely no intention of satisfying anyone's curiosity, Damian Desmond took a napkin, elegantly wiped his mouth, and stood up, 'Everyone eat slowly; I have work to do upstairs first.' 'Damian, wait...' Mrs. Sandra Desmond hurried to stop her son, but unfortunately, her son's footsteps did not stop for a second. 'I have work tonight, too.' Mr. Matthew Desmond stood up, 'Loona, eat slowly; tell the driver to take you home later.' 'Something to do? What else can you do?' Mrs. Sandra Desmond looked at her husband with ironic eyes, and Mr. Matthew Desmond, for his wife's taunts, did not take it to heart and walked away. On the long dining table, there were still many dishes left untouched, and the two women each had the same unhappy mood; Mrs. Sandra Desmond is because of the indifference of her son and husband, and Loona Richart is because of the two suitcases and the strange phone call. Who is that girl, afte
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