He didn't want to say it, and Enna Clark didn't press him, merely acknowledging with a hum. She saw him off, watching him get into the car before she returned to the villa.
Inside the car.
Lyle Westbrook sat in the backseat. The driver turned his head and noticed the injury on his face, taken aback, "Young Master Lyle, your face..."
Lyle Westbrook reached a hand to wipe the scar on his cheek. His face, as beautiful as an angel's, was cold as frost, making it impossible to decipher what he was thinking.
"Don't worry about it; it's nothing serious!"
"Yes, Young Master Lyle." No matter how concerned the driver was, he didn't dare to ask further as Lyle had spoken, "Young Master Lyle, are we going to...?"
"Back to the hotel."
Since he had already made up his mind, he had to clear the obstacles ahead.
No matter the eventual outcome, he didn't want the woman he liked to suffer the slightest grievance.
Therefore, he had to make a call to W country and Y country.
