Tears were no longer flowing, but racing wildly on her porcelain-pure little face.
"Let me."
Marco was heartbroken, taking Freya from his sister's arms, holding her like a precious pearl in his palm, and murmured softly, "Freya, I'm sorry... I've been so focused on your kidnapping these past few days that I set aside the disappearance of Aunt Hong... which led to this tragedy..."
"..." Freya was speechless.
Only tears.
Tears are the best release.
They can shed the most helpless and sad elements of a person...
But she cried so heartbreakingly, her lips turning purple, her small face twitching as if she had had a stroke, making it truly pitiable.
Especially for Marco.
He couldn't bear to see his woman so upset.
"Freya, whatever you have to say, please don't bottle it up. Otherwise, I'll go crazy. You know, when you love someone, you just want to see them happy and joyful. Otherwise, I'll cry with you..." Marco's eyes felt warm.
